None of this by-play escaped Ruth, whose sense of humour needed no developing. ‘It could not be helped, whichever way I made my presence known. "No, Rollo; not this afternoon. It is not at all comme il faut. Knives were worse, especially when you were stabbed back and left traces of your own blood at the crime scene. That Capes should love her seemed beyond the compass of her imagination. Side by side with the cheese (its never-failing accompaniment, in all seasons, at the carpenter's board) came a tankard of swig, and a toast. She leaned back in her chair.
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