He flung Ruth aside, careless whether she fell or not. And where was that devil? Had the soldiers found him? She could not think he had escaped, for she had only just made it into the passage as they entered the library. The winter of 1348 seemed to last an eternity, but the Pestilence struck in one day. It was a look that accorded very well with the hayloft setting that had come to mind. “No,” she said, under her breath, “you can’t face it. I will dedicate my books to you. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. “Who from?” She met his eye for a second and her heart failed her.
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