Russell trouble, a good lot of trouble. Yet her hands dropped, and she sighed deeply. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. There were all varieties of bird-life known in these latitudes, from the bird of paradise down to the tiny scarlet-beaked love-birds. You speak as one injured—as though I had been the one to take your name—as though you had been the one to make sacrifices. ‘How do you know?’ ‘Exactly,’ pounced Roding bitterly. Ruth's gaze wandered from the printed page.
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