She always dawdled, so it was easy. But in the train going home her aunt reasoned it out. She leaned back in the cab with half-closed eyes. To find the true father at the expense of the beautiful fairy tale Ruth had woven around the woman in the locket was an intolerable thought. ‘Do you mean to tell me,’ enquired the captain at length, ‘that you have had the infernal audacity, the—the gall, the—the— Gad, it’s an outrage! You’ve stolen a horse from a priest?’ ‘I did not steal it,’ protested Melusine hotly. It is a true saying that in the mountains there is peace.
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