The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort. She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself. Ruth is not another man's wife; she is all your own, for better or for worse. I can vouch for that. But, Gerald, do you believe there is a secret passage indeed?’ ‘Well, we covered every inch of the house and grounds, and I swear she never left that room by way of the door. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. Sebastian grabbed a rock from a corner and bashed in its skull. Celeste he knew. Then a handkerchief was thrown over the cage, to prevent the bird from singing; it was her favourite canary. A woman isn’t much freer—in reality. He told me with a coarse nervous laugh.
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