The mortal youth in him, then, was fascinated, the thinker, the poet; from all sides Ruth attacked him, innocently. It began to rain, a cold sweat of precipitation that was more sickly than refreshing. ’ Tears sprang to Melusine’s own eyes, and she clasped the hand she held more tightly. She won’t be a problem from now on. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven.
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