Her hands wove through his black hair, luxuriating in its thickness. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. Challenge accepted. God bless you, anyhow!" she added, with a spontaneity which surprised Sister Angelina into uttering an individual gasp. And in reality even that magic garden-close resolves itself into a villa at Morningside Park and my father being more and more cross and overbearing at meals—and a general feeling of insecurity and futility. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. ’ ‘You say—what?’ gasped Melusine.
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