Ruth, standing by, heard his true laughter for the first time. She could feel his breath on her skin, every hair on her arms and neck raised in response. That day Gerald had brought her to this excessively careful house, where she had felt very much alone and very unlike herself. A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. Like a nightmare memory that returned again and again to haunt her. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions. You are too kind. ‘You mean that his missus is pretending to be my mistress? Lord-a-mercy!’ ‘Precisely.
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