“No, Lucy, because Satan does not exist. That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her. Even that he sleeps, I must give to him my thanks, for he has been excessively brave for me. He had abandoned his oars, and the boat was drifting with the stream towards the enemy. All the talk in the world would not describe Ruth. . Then he paused. “I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. The same teardrop bust, the same long waist, the same thick legs. But get up behind, Blueskin. "Red apples and snow!" she sent back at him, her face suddenly transfixed by some inner glory. She was too wrapped up in the sheer joy of playing again; it had 201 been intimate, masturbatory. She tipped his mouth towards her own and kissed him.
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