My gaze fell upon the pool that had been Norhala's bath.

Longingly I looked at it; then satisfying myself that the milking process was not finished, slipped off my clothes and splashed about.
I had just time to get back in my clothes when through the doorway came the pair, each carrying a porcelain pannikin full of milk.
There was no shadow of fear or horror on her face.

It was the old Ruth who stood before me; nor was there effort in the smile she gave me.

She had been washed clean in the waters of sleep.
"Don't worry, Walter," she said.

"I know what you're thinking.