Ruth drank in these intellectual controversies, storing away facts. Gwen—I saw Gwen the other day, and the paint’s thicker than ever. That would be an unkind twist of fate. I am aware that you ran away from there, but—’ ‘Certainly I ran away,’ she said, meeting his gaze with defiance in her own. ‘I can’t tell you the times I’ve wished for a gun to point at Hilary’s head. ‘Have you any more pretty toys like that knife about you?’ ‘The girl’s a regular arsenal,’ Hilary snapped, giving up into his senior’s hand the nasty little weapon he had snatched.
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