A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. Let’s face it, she hates Missy’s guts. ‘Marry an Englishman! Which Englishman?’ Melusine shrugged. These two elderly ladies would call her stark mad. A granddaughter of mine!’ The idiocy of this notion stuck in his craw and he could think of nothing else for a moment. Ruth shivered; she was cold. McClintock's initial revulsion was natural; he was an honest man. The thought passed through his mind even as he started to cross the terrace at a jogtrot, moving to head her off.
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