“Here we are,” he said, “shining through each other like light through a stained-glass window. ” He shook her hands off almost roughly. See paragraph 1. Ruth was something to study for future copy; she was almost unbelievable. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. She got home every night in time to cook supper and it was good money. The man who sat behind a pigeon-hole, and regulated the comings and goings, was for a moment absent. Melusine, starved of colour for years, revelled in it.
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