A white apron was tied round his waist, and into the apron was thrust a short thick truncheon, which looked very much like a rolling-pin. Amidst it all, however, there were several light-hearted and laughing groups walking from cell to cell to whom all this misery appeared matter of amusement. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. What with these converging roofs that shut out all but a hand's breadth of the sky, sunshine was rare at this point. Go out there and head him off, will you? Tell him anything you like, but don’t let him in, and don’t tell him Melusine is here. ‘You don’t even know what it means, do you?’ Melusine frowned.
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