He righted a chair and sat in it, his face in his hands. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman. She could see over a waist high stone wall into the miniature courtyard, complete with benches only a small child could sit upon, one which had been broken in half, its two pieces left unjoined on the sandy ground. In and out of consciousness she sailed, hearing voices from memory that she could not distinguish from reality.
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