A hollow feeling opened up inside her, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. ‘I will not, if you will assure me that an imbecile is a better marriage prospect than a starving pig. It is perfectly intrusive of me, and I quite see that you must be sick to death of running into such an interfering busybody all the time. Brown engaged in the usual browbeating and complaining he reserved for sections who came in late and soloists who left tempo behind like the leftovers of a Sunday picnic. Ruth's eyes were wet, but she saw light everywhere: the room was filled with celestial aura.
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