“The truth!” It was a moment of awkwardness between the two sisters —a moment, too, charged with its own psychological interest, for there were secrets between them which for many months had made their intercourse a constrained and difficult thing. She had asked to borrow his pencil out of dire necessity. Following her lead, he fortified himself with a swallow of the excellent Madeira before responding. The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. He did not spend more time with her. I’m convinced that much of Russell’s investigations are on wrong lines, unsound lines. Sometimes—a lonely forlorn child—she had gone to him and put her arms around his neck. Do you know the story of Orpheus? He was a musician who followed his damned wife into Hell to bring her back? He was one of us, I believe. How could she tell him what indeed already began to puzzle herself, why she had borrowed that money at all? The plain fact was that she had grabbed a bait. The first Step towards the Ladder VII. “No,” she answered, reluctantly. Play fair with her.
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