It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. ’ ‘I thought you were dead,’ Melusine confided. \"No, not really. " Ruth stood with drawn brows; she was trying to recall. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. When I promised to marry you I thought I could; I thought it was a possible arrangement. We got your message, but you never stay out this late. "I didn't carry you off from old Wood to kill you, but to wed you. But what he could do or might do she could not imagine. Her head ached with a hollow pain. She tore open the envelope and read it.
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