There *might* or might not be a contract, somewhere, that Ruth had Zech sign before he could know what those were. When those few years count… but probably not. Maybe.

Ruth did not cling to her insinuation, it was pointless and Zechariah was semiresistent anyway. It was better to keep trying.

As for the fiancée… she shall see.

Ruth slammed her large hand to her chest, with a dramatic “puff “ of her jacket “Me? A seditionist? Why, I’d never…!” She protested, not even making an effort to sound vaguely believable if seen from a distance maybe. But also, she didn’t specify what sort of revolutions she might be planning herself. And also didn’t ask about Zechariah’s role in it or how he knew what sort of socialists were in town: that was a conversation they were going to have some other time. After all, the town was *that* big.

Ruth blinked twice in hearing that. Well, that was a compliment she was not expecting. But also it was oddly formulated. Her curiosity was horribly tickled and her brother terribly cheap when it came to information. She just allowed herself a doubtful look and left it at that, promising to herself to prepare a letter to invite the lady to visit, together with a strongly worded one for her younger sister.

“A type of trousers,” Ruth immediately renegotiated and immediately diverted.

“Has Nesah gone to France to steal trousers from husbands? Boy, that’s a long way. Also, it is illegal to wear them, as far as I know.” Not that had had ever stopped her when she had visited, obviously.

Potentially sensing Zechariah’s half intention to flee, Ruth jumped off the carriage without warning and stared, hands on her hips, ahead of her, ready to face her new accommodation.