V. Somehow logic could not explain her. It was not a cambric curtain Ruth had drawn across that part of her life: it was of iron. He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence. He glanced down between the still narrow distance that lay between Melusine and himself, and discovered her hand there, a very small dagger within it. What Miss Miniver would have called the Higher Truth supervenes. ‘Nothing.
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