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BY THE AUTHOR OF "ELIZABETH AND HER GERMAN GARDEN"
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON
When the doctor had gone, and the two women from the village he had been waiting for were upstairs
shut in with her dead father, Lucy went out into the garden and stood leaning on the gate staring at the
Her father had died at nine o'clock that morning, and it was now twelve. The sun beat on her bare head;
and the burnt-up grass along the top of the cliff, and the dusty road that passed the gate, and the