Marsden Wood was the most
sinister of all the woods; there had once been a murder there, but
even had there not, the grim bleakness of the trees and bushes, the
absence of all clear paths through its tangles and thickets made it
a sinister place. She turned at the very edge of the wood and set
her face back towards Skeaton.
The day had been wild and windy with recurrent showers of rain, but
now there was a break, the chilly April sun broke through the clouds
and scattered the hedges and fields with primrose light.
Faintly and with a gentle rhythm the murmur of the sea came across
the land and the air was sweet with the sea-salt and the fresh scent
of the grass after rain. Maggie stood for a moment, breathing in the
spring air and watching the watery blue thread its timid way through
banks of grey cloud. A rich gleam of sunlight struck the path at her
feet.
She saw then, coming towards her, a man and a woman. The woman was
ordinary enough, a middle-aged, prim, stiffly dressed person with a
pale shy face, timid in her walk and depressed in mouth and eyes.
The man was a stout, short, thick-set fellow with a rosy smiling
face.
Pages:
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649