She saw her discarded nun’s habit still on the floor and scooped it up. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. He could not tell whether she was English or American. ‘Ask him. I thank God for the very skin that is peeling from your nose, for all things great and small that make us what we are. ‘I allow anyone in. Michelle's home was one of the smaller palaces, made solidly of red brick with charming black shutters and window boxes full of drooping violets.
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