Having heard from Thames that you were better, and that your sole anxiety was about me, I came to give you the first intelligence of my escape. ’ She bestowed a dazzling smile on Roding, who had reddened to the gills at these words. The stretch of red dirt disappeared into a stretch of trees like Van Gogh’s painting. ‘Desist, you little devil,’ he growled in her ear. And in those days, too, he used to help her mother with her gardening, and hover about her while she stood on the ladder and hammered creepers to the scullery wall.
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