She was sitting on the mean straw mattress that was placed on the iron bedstead in the makeshift cell, while Melusine stood with her back to the door, confronting her old nurse with the truth. If ever the denouement came—if ever the Hand reached him—Ruth would then understand why he had rebuffed all her tender advances. She was not afraid of violence, but she was afraid of something mean, some secondary kind of force. Rhea laughed and lunged for the broadsword that Sebastian had carelessly left lying on the ground. Shamefaced curiosities began to come back into her mind, thinly disguised as literature and art. He was holding the ring to the light, and narrowly examining the inscription. "I wanted you to know.
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