Ruth, without suspecting it, had fallen upon a fundamental truth: that each and every book fitted into the scheme of human moods and intelligence. “You are talking like a boy. Understand once and for all that that answer is final. You see, I—I am a woman worshipper. The entrance was concealed between two huge boulders within a clump of trees, and was now so overgrown that no one who did not know of its existence could ever hope to find it. No, let us dine here, and then go and have our coffee on the boulevards. ‘You will not, pig,’ cried Melusine.
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