ntours and, on tiptoe at its borers, peering at teries beyond its bounds.

    GARDENSI oo early. tonous fragment of a tune c my brain. ito  before Judit t, I made myself a cup of cocoa, drank it scaldingly  and  outdoors.

    Miss inter’s garden  .  I aken at first sigo be the formal beds—

    divided one part of t and copper beecone er clematis and tems of rambling roses, and fences, neatly paneled or woven in willow.

    Folloion to anot I could not fat.  looked solid vieraigimes revealed a diagonal passageo and near-impossible to escape from. Fountains and statues t I t I   of time stock-still, looking around me in perplexity and sure self and ting out deliberately to t me.

    turning a corner, I came across ticent, bearded man ion. “Maurice is antly introducing himself.

    ‘ to get lost?“ I ed to knorick to it?“

    ‘Only time,“  looking up from  and pressing ts of ts.

    Maurice, I could tell, did not  mind, being of a solitary nature myself. After t I made a point, e direction, and I tion, for once or tc out of to see Maurice backing out of an entrance or making a sudden, divergent turn. In t eaco avoid eac any sense of constraint.

    Later t day I  to Miss inter and sold me more about t Angelfield.

    t to t seemed forever. ty: Staff came and  quickly at Angelfield, and since departures  remaining. tecy ss and laid fires like an under ime to make a meal  ime to serve it sler. Yet by time t like to admit it, t manage.

    t to be br