The race began once more; but this time Ruth knew that there would be no escape. As she started, rearing up her head, a hand stole about her mouth and closed down hard. The solos were revealing, sensual and moody. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. Melusine sighed with relief at being alone at last and free to resume her search among the portraits. ‘You are extremely empty-headed, Lucy. He turned, expecting to see his wife. ’ He closed the panel and came slowly out of the little dressing-room, Roding at his heels. ‘Bring her to me and we shall see.
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