‘I dropped the lantern,’ Jack’s muffled voice told her. ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You have papers of identity, for the Mother Abbess told me so. The air was thick with feelings. . He glanced at Ruth (who had stood with her back to the wall, pinned there throughout the contest by terror and the knowledge of her own helplessness), then at the bronze menace, and calculated correctly that this particular adventure was finished. Day before, send round to each to borrow a shirt. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh.
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