She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired. The moment he was out in the hall, Ruth sat up hugging and rocking her body in delight. His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes blood-shot. Melusine sighed with relief at being alone at last and free to resume her search among the portraits. ‘I doubt very much whether they are yours at all. I want her to get forward, to set her among people who'll understand what to do with her.
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