The real Ruth was as completely hidden as though she stood behind the walls of Agra Fort. Michelle had charitably taken to sitting with Lucy during Lunch Period, where she assumed a station at the outer edges of the Cafeteria, the crowd diffusing in concentric orbits, the middle tables reserved for only the most prestigious castes. A shy virgin bride would not press her thigh sinuously against his, nor consent indeed to this clandestine little comedy he had been playing. Nothing. That turned her mind to the more generalized aspects of her perplexities again. She was always breaking rules, whispering asides, intimating signals. I wish I could get you to imitate Thames Darrell. “I am sure, Anna,” she said, “I do not see why we should conceal the truth from you. You’ll have to go back to Remenham House. Before that came your father didn’t even know you were gone. He had informed her that to leave him would be a choice to live a life of meager subsistence. They are blinded to all fine and subtle things —they look at life with bloodshot eyes and dilated nostrils.
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