That he was immolating Ruth on the altar of his conscience never broke in upon his thought for consideration. Her mother was a goddess to her all through her youth, the mysterious ruler of all things beautiful and wonderful and lunar, her eyes that glinted spectral blue, as if she had the knowledge and the magic to raise the very dead. Anna hailed a bus. “Experte credo. People sat in unusual pews, and a wide margin of hassocky emptiness intervened between the ceremony and the walls. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. He thought rationally; that is to say, he thought clearly, as a child thinks clearly.
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