He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul. Walking into the bedroom, she quickly shed the miniskirt and sweater, folding them without ceremony. “My husband!” she laughed a little derisively. ‘Leave it, imbecile. It is she that I must see. Perceiving he was about to take leave, Kneebone ventured to ask whom he had had the honour of addressing. His noble Florentine roots went back a thousand years, to the days of grand Rome herself.
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