She went across to the little window again, her back to Melusine. She had thought it a mirror, because it was her. ‘Take this. I hardly see you anymore. "And now, mark me. "Good-bye!" For a moment Ruth was tempted to fling herself against the withered bosom; but long since she had learned repression. Do you think that I am utterly selfish?” She raised her eyebrows. “But, dear, think! He is your father. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams. You will find it somewhere in that book. But as the next moment all was profound darkness, Jack easily managed to break away from them. She calmed herself, breathing deeply. It doesn’t seem to matter. But you,” he continued, moving imperceptibility a little nearer to her, “you are mine. Ruth drank in these intellectual controversies, storing away facts.
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