"Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. “May I enquire,” he asked smoothly, “in what way my appearance contributes to your amusement? If there is a joke I should like to share it. Ruth was at that stage where the absorption of facts is great, but where the mental digestion is not quite equal to the task. . She backed away from him. But it was the form of her ruling determination; it was the only form that she ever allowed to see daylight. What does it matter? I am not a pauper, Annabel. Flattened flowers aren’t for the likes of us. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. She was shifting, moving back. It disgusts me that you should touch me. ‘Now,’ she said, in an imperious manner that so much reminded him of Melusine that he was obliged to suppress a grin, ‘I can see you properly. She released her clutch on it as, dizzy with exhaustion, she leaned against the back of the pew and closed her eyes, her fingers grasping out automatically for support.
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