Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. “I’m six hundred and forty-eight, John, but guess how old I look? Fifteen. Lucy savored the normalcy of the scene. ‘You have made a serious mistake, Melusine. The boy’s besotted. She winked at him as he shut the door. ‘Me and the butler didn’t see eye to eye. It isn’t law, nor custom, nor masculine violence settled that. . He will be sorry when he knows who I am,’ decided Melusine with satisfaction.
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