. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. He kissed her fingers and grinned. She had just this moment past told him that Monsieur Valade came to her after the tragedy, to the convent, from where he married her and brought her to England. He got out of the car and lifted her from the convertible before she could open the door. "Yes," answered the girl. Undraw the curtain, love," she added to Thames, "that I may look at you. ’ Was there a careful note in her voice? Gerald gave no sign, keeping his own tone light.
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