’ ‘Yes, a pretty theory, Lucy,’ Gerald said evenly, ‘but for one thing. Wood, when he does return, I'd send him about his business. Her aunt glanced up startled, and then sat very still, with hands that had ceased to work. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. Only a few, but enough for me to understand that some act had driven you to this part of the world, where the hunted hide. Go for it. “To the young man himself,” he answered, “no! I simply object to his calling here two or three times a week during my absence.
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