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. Anna was having tea by herself when she entered. "Have you been more successful, Sir?" ventured Ireton. Something seemed to dredge up from the recesses of her memory and she brightened. She brought her hands up to her head and ripped out two long chunks of her hair, pulling out shreds of scalp. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. ’ ‘Very true.
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