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Chapter 1

           Shehadneverfinishedthatpicture.Shewouldpaintthatpicturenow.Ithadbeenknockingaboutinhermindalltheseyears.Wherewereherpaints,shewondered?Herpaints,yes.Shehadlefttheminthehalllastnight.Shewouldstartatonce.Shegotupquickly,beforeMr.Ramsayturned.

           Shefetchedherselfachair.Shepitchedhereaselwithherpreciseold-maidishmovementsontheedgeofthelawn,nottooclosetoMr.Carmichael,butcloseenoughforhisprotection.Yes,itmusthavebeenpreciselyherethatshehadstoodtenyearsago.Therewasthewall;thehedge;thetree.Thequestionwasofsomerelationbetweenthosemasses.Shehadborneitinhermindalltheseyears.Itseemedasifthesolutionhadcometoher:sheknewnowwhatshewantedtodo.

           ButwithMr.Ramsaybearingdownonher,shecoulddonothing.Everytimeheapproachedhewaswalkingupanddowntheterraceruinapproached,chaosapproached.Shecouldnotpaint.Shestooped,sheturned;shetookupthisrag;shesqueezedthattube.Butallshedidwastowardhimoffamoment.Hemadeitimpossibleforhertodoanything.Forifshegavehimtheleastchance,ifhesawherdisengagedamoment,lookinghiswayamoment,hewouldbeonher,saying,ashehadsaidlastnight,"Youfindusmuchchanged."Lastnighthehadgotupandstoppedbeforeher,andsaidthat.Dumbandstaringthoughtheyhadallsat,thesixchildrenwhomtheyusedtocallaftertheKingsandQueensofEnglandtheRed,theFair,theWicked,theRuthlessshefelthowtheyragedunderit.

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