He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. It was the beginning of June. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. ’ The lodgekeeper had been in fine fettle by the time Major Alderley had produced his investigatory force at the gates. “What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. He drifted in and out of consciousness.
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