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. Nothing could have been farther from Melusine’s mind. ’ ‘Get going, then,’ Trodger told his men. ’ A strangled sob escaped her as his thumb dug cruelly into the soft flesh of her wrist. These petals! I’ve been wanting to cry all the evening, cry here on your shoulder for my petals. She saw her aunt in tears, her father white-faced and hard hit. Anna followed her finger, and looked back into her sister’s face.
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