She occupied a small sofa, a little apart, a ruddy-complexioned gentleman some years her senior beside her, and glanced about with an air of considerable unease. ‘You are extremely empty-headed, Lucy. The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort. She was the social leader of Morningside Park, and in her superficial and euphuistic way an extremely kind and pleasant woman. ‘Laisse-moi. Come along home, Ruth. Immediately a feathered hat emerged, under which a familiar countenance was visible. The couple reappeared from behind the curtains, both visibly shaken.
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