” He was a little bewildered. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. He pressed the bloody wrist into her mouth, and she though she could not feel it or 72 control it, she knew she was being made to swallow. Even he was not oblivious to it, and after about two minutes of awkward French kissing, he pulled away. “The numbers are a little difficult to see in the archway. " He bent his head to his knees. She seized the key, and he grasped her hand and squeezed it roughly and painfully between the handle and the ward as she tried to turn it. Her voice recalled him.
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