Jonathan laughed scornfully. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. She received into her slack grasp the pistol and dagger, only half aware of taking them. Ruth flashed in and out of the sunshine; and he took note of the radiant nimbus above her head each time the sunshine touched her hair. “I cannot conceive,” he said, “how any other occupation could ever have occurred to you. I can’t rest or work or settle down to anything while things are like this between you and me. ’ ‘What if she goes back to Charvill?’ demanded Roding. A good woman’s mind has angels with flaming swords at the portals to keep out fallen thoughts. “I don’t think I CAN do that,” she said. His suspicions at first fell upon you.
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