’ ‘In this case, I do not at all wish to marry you,’ Melusine threw at him furiously. Here was Ruth Enschede—sick of love! Love—something the world would always keep hidden from her, at least human love. Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. Furiously, she dashed his hands away. “No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing. Be on your guard. "I'm surprised you've not asked that question before, Sir Rowland. Certainly you have a reason. You don’t understand. I watched you wait at the farmhouse! But I couldn’t compromise your safety! You must have realized that!” She lowered her voice to a loud whisper.
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