Man's fate is in his own hands. He did not love Ruth. She imagined herself on a barren 41 plain, post-Apocalypse, convulsing, waiting to die with the cockroach. He felt her observance and warmed to it. Why had he offered her that kiss on board The Tigress? Perhaps that had been his hour of disenchantment. The ruse succeeded almost beyond his expectation. I made it a point to bring beachcombers to the house to fill her with horror of mankind. “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately. ‘It is precisely that point over which Melusine and I fell out. She found herself again in the presence of some element in life about which she had been trained not to think, about which she was perhaps instinctively indisposed to think; something which jarred, in spite of all her mental resistance, with all her preconceptions of a clean and courageous girl walking out from Morningside Park as one walks out of a cell into a free and spacious world. ’ For a moment Gerald said nothing at all.
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