“Let me help you,” he begged. It was Annabel who spoke. Wood fancied he recognised. “It is your sister and her husband,” he said. 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. “No, John, you won’t understand. ‘Tie a horse behind the carriage?’ he echoed incredulously. \"But nothing is going to happen. Leonardo had told her it would happen, and warned her to make use of it. She wondered abjectly whether he intended to rape her before she was dead.
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