At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. Ruth's emotion was a primitive joy: she was essential in this man's life, and she would always be happy because he would always be needing her. But you! Why the devil did you marry her? That's the thing that confounds me. D'ye hear how the wanes creaks on old Winchester House? We shall have a touch on it ourselves presently. Ruth did not reply, but stared past the doctor, her eyes misty. She caught her finger in the lock and had to ask him to help pry it out. You’re mine. ‘I fear you mistake, Emile.
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