” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne. Even in the daylight, it had a sombre and suspicious air, and seemed to slink back from the adjoining houses, as if afraid of their society. She could learn nothing of her son, and only obtained one solitary piece of information, which added to, rather than alleviated her misery,—namely, that Jonathan Wild had paid a secret visit to the Cross Shovels. “I’m sorry I told you that, Michelle. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. ’ ‘Nonsense, it’ll give Pottiswick something genuine to complain about,’ said Gerald cheerfully, moving to the edge of the trees. But it is all over now, and presently there will be some one else. ‘I suppose he isn’t this Leonardo you spoke of?’ ‘Certainly he is not Leonardo. One day she had thrown all the gifts into the lagoon, and visited the secret nook no more. She is chosen to learn magic.
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