And afterwards! Sir John drew his cigar from his lips, and looked upwards where the white-lights flashed strangely amongst the deep cool green of the lime-trees. She entered quietly and padded up to her shared bedroom. She would be haunted by the visions of their mad faces in her dreams for the next hundred years. If you love me, do not allude to this subject again. She hesitated in answering the door, her violin still crooked underneath her chin. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield.
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