‘It had better not be, by God,’ had barked Captain Hilary Roding. Nobody knows what his real name is, but he's a Hollander. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. The vestry was perhaps the only room in the place, except her allotted curtained off portion of the dormitory chamber that served for her cell—and she could not scandalise the nuns by having a man in there, be he never so much a servant—where Melusine could be sure of privacy.
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