“Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. Enschede, to have starved his heart as well as Ruth's because, having laid a curse, he knew not how to turn aside from it! How easily he might have forgotten the unworthy mother in the love of the child! And this day to hear her voice lifted in a quality of anathema. She watched, puzzled, as her cavalier frowned at the newcomer, glancing from him to Melusine and back again. As his eyes adjusted, he was able to make out the great shrouded shapes of the furniture.
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