She played the game with Malach always, without demur. She never argued against it or attempted to be facetious or obstructive. She only objected to the observations he sometimes made to her. As when he had said, "Suppose, Ruth, that I keep you here. That you never go out again." Then she said, "You mustn't do that. You know I must go out."

"Why is that?"

"Because I have to."

"Why?"

"Because I walk about for miles. I look at things."

"Perhaps you never will again."

"Yes, I will."

"And when, then," he said, "do you think that will be?"

"When I've been punished," she said, "enough."

On the first morning, after the first croissants and coffee, he had gone into her green and blue room with the Nasturtium window, and he had sat down in the chair. And Ruth immediately seated herself below him on the floor.

"We'll talk now," he said, "but not in the usual way."

Ruth nodded. She had not yet arranged her hair in plaits but her face was washed and white.

"I will say a word to you," he said, "you will say a word back to me."

"What kind of word?"

"The word that seems to fit what I have said."

"All right," said Ruth.

And Malach said, "Egypt."

Ruth answered swiftly, "Incest."

"Father," said Malach.

"King."

"Mother."

Ruth thought. She shook her head. "I can't think of anything."

"Nothing then," said Malach. He said: "Fire."

Ruth lowered her eyes. "Nothing."

"Blood," said Malach.

Ruth said: "Scarabae."

Then Malach stood up. He had been with her only fifteen minutes. He left her without any formal expression, but half an hour later she knocked and called out, "Can I have some more to eat?"

He phoned the restaurant, and two apple and raspberry Danish came, and an ice cream. She ate all of it.

The second day he went to her in the afternoon.

"Hunger," he said.

"Empty," said Ruth.

"Empty," he said.

She blinked. "Heart."

"Ruby."

"Heart," said Ruth.

"Heart," he said.

"Window."

"Describe the window," he said.

"Red. Ruby red. Ladies in red dresses and a red horse and a red sun."

"Darkness."

"Eyes," said Ruth.

"Whose eyes?"

"Yours."

"My eyes aren't dark, Ruth."

"Yes."

"My eyes are a very light blue. The eyes often turn paler, as the body grows older."

"Ink," said Ruth, starting the game again.

He let her. He said, "Ink is black."

"Blue ink. Mixed with white wine."

"What color is the window in this room?"

"Blood color."

"Blood, Ruth."

"Yesterday."

"Tomorrow."

She looked up at him and shook her head.

They played the word game every day for more than two months. Sometimes they would play for over an hour.