Ruth was something to study for future copy; she was almost unbelievable. He sat alone in his brother’s old car night after night that summer, staring blankly at the red sky beyond the abandoned farmhouse where she had once shown him her secrets. Presently you will see that I am right, and then you shall take your vacation over here, and we will be good comrades again. Promise me one thing before I leave you. The house was full of aunts, uncles, and cousins meandering about, stuffed until their seams and zippers were bursting. “Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. Had he been sick in the mind when he had done this damnable thing? It did not seem possible, for he could recall clearly all he had said and done; there were no blank spaces to give him one straw of excuse. Frequently he would take up a box of talc and send a shower down his back, or fill his palms with the powder and rub his face and arms and hands. Melusine sighed with frustration.
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