The knight and his followers crossed the threshold, leaving one of the torch-bearers behind them. 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. ’ ‘And she’d be right,’ Martha said severely. She never touched the manuscript with pencil, but jotted down her notes on slips of paper and left them where he might easily find them. She had never heard anything so unholy. “I am so sorry. All that is jolly and as it should be. Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work.
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