. "Can you not love him?" "Love him!" echoed the widow. ” “Do you mean,” Courtlaw asked, “that from now to the end of the six months you do not wish to see us—any of us?” Her eyes were a little dim again. Lucy loved orchestras, the bittersweet tinge of rosin dust that hung in the air, the way that the sun shone through filthy windows illuminating the marimbas with a storybook light. He had been abusing them for a long time when I arrived. “You did not wish to see him particularly this evening, then?” Anna hesitated. Just as they reached the eastern outlet of the churchyard— where the tall elms cast a pleasant shade over the rustic graves—a momentary stoppage took place. “Hospital? What for? What’s the matter with me?” Courtlaw’s voice sank to a whisper.
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