Winds of March were blowing in Toronto, and the streets were still dark. In one of the most elegant areas of Toronto, there was a beautiful old house, semi-Victorian in style, its lawn was lined with dark red, glowing rose bushes in the summer, and the windows had misty lace curtains, and an oriental-inspired door knocker.

Leslie Ford, brushed still golden "living hair" as Anne had in years past termed it, from her temple, as she glanced out the window. There was intent look in her sea blue eyes, as she gently stroked her silk cherry red kimono, which Owen had bought her in Japan when they lived there in 1905.

Leslie calmly poured tea into an iron teapot, and pushed the sugar bowl closer to her daughter. Persis, was dressed in efficent uniform of Red Cross volunteer. She nodded wearily, and absentmindedly stirred her tea, her slim fingers hardened from typing, just as Leslie's had once been calloused from farm work. Leslie shook her head at the thought of her own history laced with tragedy, and remembered how she had hoped with all her soul that her possible future children would be spared all misery, but no one could imagine anything like this, the catastrophe that now shook the world, that Christmas of 1890, when Owen and Leslie sealed their glowing love on marriage vows, in Ingelside, dear Anne had been maid of honour, and her greenish gray eyes had shone with happiness. Carefully Leslie cut open the envelope of Anne's latest letter with her butter knife and scanned flowing lines of her dearest friend, well known hand.

On the other side of the table, Owen, was reading his correspondence, and suddenly his gray eyes sharpened, and a brilliantly enthusiastic smile spread across his face, and he tipped his tea mug on the table, and took his notebook from his pocket, beginning to write with rapid, sure strokes. At Owen's side, she had experienced the mysterious wonders of the world, travel and far-off sights, and the double-edged sword of money and success and reletless work. Their love had blessed them with two wonderful children, witty, smooth Kenneth, and cheerful, mischievously energetic Persis, in whom Leslie sometimes saw all the promise she herself had had, but multiplied and in purified form.

Persis glanced at Leslie, and smiled when she saw a slightly veiled look in her Mother´s dark blue eyes that were twin to her own, and she said, "How is Aunt Anne and everyone at Ingelside, then?"

Leslie scanned Anne´s letter and the smile she gave Persis was a little wistful as she said "Anne is dreading the arrival of April, for Shirley will be of age then, and otherwise here is a bit of Glen and Lowbridge news, dear Cornelia is just as energetic as ever. Rilla is still avoiding Irene Howard, and little Jims is growing up and flourishing under the tender, efficient care of Susan and Rilla. Nan and Di are in Redmond, and are successful and popular, each in their own way. "

Persis put her teacup down on her plate and remembered the bright, dusty, sunny summers of her childhood, when Ken had often, in his big-brother style, shaken Persis off his heels and slipped away to some secret corner with Walter. Leaving Persis with Nan and Di, and quite often Nan had run off to play with the Clow girls, leaving Persis and Di sitting alone on the green lawn. The flower beds bordered by large pale seashells, and the roses planted by Persis's namesake had been full of mysterious enchantment, they had smelled softly, and the sea breeze had rustled the leaves of the trees. Di had looked at Persis gravely, and inquired earnestly but in somewhat shy way. "Do you want to go look for shells on the rocks?" And they had gone. Two gangly girls, golden blonde and red hair in braids, in their pale muslin dresses, had run hand in hand onwards red-tinted Shore Road towards cliffs, were salty surf tickled their feet, and sky was tinted azure, and there was almost impossible to see where sky and sea joined together in delicate embrace, far, far horizon. Soon the spirit of adventure had taken over, and the hours had ticked by.

By the time they got back, to homely comforts of Ingelside, Anne had only laughed with delight, in her silvery way, and Susan had placed a large plate of Monkey face biscuits in front of Persis. Walter had remarked in his poetic, high-flying style, "Persis you have seaweed in your hair, it suits you." Di had nodded, to give her unspoken support to her brother's words.

Only couple of days later, Persis had chanced to meet Di again, she had been sitting on the patio swing of Ingelside's famous veranda, the mint and clover had smelled, cadre of striped kittens had gambolled in the grass. Di had tilted her head and said quietly, "Don't forget me Persis." And she had taken from the pocket of her apron a small, beautiful, delicate pink seashell, which she had pressed into Persis's hand. And her dainty fair face had almost glowed in the dimness, and she had given Persis a somewhat awkward embrace, and then she almost run inside. Persis remembered vaguely hearing her Mother's golden laugh running through the still evening, as Uncle Gil told some anecdote in the living room of Ingelside.

Day after that encounter, Ford family had left, returning to Toronto. And then there had been the trip to Japan, and the world had suddenly been wider, as she was enrolled to different schools, as the responsibilities and opportunities of being the daughter of a successful author, Owen Ford, had almost pushed aside earlier childhood joy in the simple things.

But the connection with Aunt Anne´s children had remained, and as the years rolled swiftly by, Persis recalled her quick visits to Ingelside's domestic harmony, and that slightly odd way Di seemed now to avoid her, when Ken was telling his anecdotes of high Toronto life to Walter and Jem and Nan, and little Rilla sitting on the veranda, as Meredith siblings had sat on the velvety green lawn.

Persis had enjoyed being able to abandon her fashionable Toronto clothes for a couple of weeks, and dress more modestly, in cotton, but of course following fashion. Persis remembered how some fair girl in Glen Street had given her a hostile glance. Nan had laughed and said lightly "Dear Persis, that's just Irene Howard, pay her no mind, she detests girls who are more visible than she herself is. And you are truly pretty as a picture, even dressed in cotton."

Persis had sighed under her breath, for so pleasant stroll, had just taken on a dull tone. For it was so, that years ago Persis had decided that if she had to listen to numbing compliments of the salon lions, at her appearance, she would cry out, so she had decided to make a deliberate spectacle of herself, for she had a reputation to protect. After all, she was the sister of the divinely handsome and intelligent Kenneth Ford, and by delving into all sorts of social ills, different languages, and cultures, she had slowly succeeded in her aim, she was not only another very pretty girl with the right background.

So Persis, had nodded to Nan's compliment, and in a light tone, remarked "Nan, what do you think of the surffrage movement and is it really the case that none of you Blythe girls here drive cars, even secretly?" Nan had frowned, and said, " I don't know much about it, but what I've read it, is very important, as it affects us all. I don't think Uncle Owen will let you drive, not many here own a car." Persis had laughed carelessly and whispered, "you're right, but I have a way."

Leslie's voice interrupted the flood of memories as she inquired "a penny of your thoughts, my dear." Persis looked up and remarked lightly "I kept remembering our summers in Four Winds, and Ingelside, that time will never come back, because we will never be able to gather together again."

Leslie sighed, and tasted her tea, and remarked lightly "Perhaps one day we can sit on the Ingelside lawn again in the heat of June, and hopefully then there will be peace, and something to celebrate."

Amused, Persis thought of her brother's letters from the front. Lately they had only had one subject, and thoughtfully she finished her toast and said in her winsome way. "Anything is possible. Perhaps I too may find someone who will put up with me longer than handful of dances in one social season."

Leslie just stared at her daughter unflinchingly, until Persis squirmed in her seat and Leslie calmly remarked "You're more into rallies and demonstrations than social balls, so don't blame me for your own interests, even though I've made sure you know how to entertain and play the hostess game, as well. Thank your luck, dear child, that we have brought you up relatively freely, and your unconventional reputation is by no means a hindrance, on the contrary, it adds to our family name, for some reason, for your brother used to play all kinds of pranks, and he also played truant, too. But judging by his letters some of his mischief has been wiped out by army discipline and war, or it's responsibility for human lives, either way. Ken seems serious, even sombre, at times."

The clock on the wall started to ring, and Persis, startled, grabbed her folder, and her gloves, kissed Leslie on the cheek, and ran out, saying, "I'm going to be late soon."

The front door slammed shut so that the window panes rattled, slightly. Dreamily Owen looked up from his notebook and remarked, "That must be either our dear daughter, or there is so much mail today that it makes the windows rattle." Leslie shook her golden head in her amused fashion, and poured Owen more tea.

Outside, bumpy, battered car started up, and Persis cautiously backed it onto the street, which had already become a bit more lively as commuters went to work.

In the evening, legs aching from standing for hours, behind the counter where the Red Cross logo had loomed, and the ladies in the social circle of Toronto´s affluent neigbourhoods had gossiped and written checks. Persis had outlined and written lists, so that her fingers ached. Taking her garters off her feet, and slipping into her favorite flowing house dress, Persis opened the drawer of her desk, and took out a small lacquered box, and a pink shell curled into her hand. And with a smile, Persis took a piece of writing paper from a drawer with pictures of Japanese cranes and delicate cherryblossoms, and humming strand of Puccini, she began, slowly to sketch a letter to Ken, and then on impulse another one too.

The light shadows of the afternoon were alluringly reflected on the faces of Gog and Magog. Anne Blythe glanced at the sincerely excited letter in front of her, that she had received from Di a couple of weeks ago. Anne sighed, and smiled with trembling lips, seeing Gilbert coming down the road. For many days she had thought about what to answer while doing chores in her mind. This had been almost the only thing left out of her letter to dear Leslie. A searing pain almost tore at her heart, as thought of Di, on some ship, crossing the Atlantic, where torpedoes lurked. Perhaps in the harsh training of VAD-nurses, in London, and finally at the front, where anything could happen to her sensible, writing, musically sensitive child. Her brother would never come home again. No, she couldn't give any more, especially with April almost around the corner, it was still a few more weeks to go. Anne knew that the walls of Shirley's room were full of cut-out pictures of airplanes and instruction manuals. So with reddened eyes and burning cheeks, Anne pressed the tip of her pen to the creamy paper and began to write. And a little later, when she showed letter to Gilbert, he had nodded, gravely, and taken Anne into his arms, and for a few moments time had ceased to exist, in the safe embrace of those arms so dear, to her.

In the morning Mistress of Ingelside sat with dark rings under her bright eyes, at the breakfast table. Susan attentively poured a few lumps of carefully measured sugar into her teacup, and said "Mrs Doctor Dear shall rest for the morning, you have exhausted yourself again. Susan is now at the helm, I will take care of everything, and surely Rilla can help, right?" Rilla raised her serious gaze, and she wiped Jims messy neckerchief, and nodded. Gilbert had been alerted early in the morning by shrill phone, and as usual he had rushed out. With difficulty Anne Blythe nodded, to Susan, and all morning she sat with a gray army sock on her knee, but did not sew, not a single row. Tennyson´s lyrics echoed in her mind, like relentless sleet.

Past, Future glimpse and fade
Through some slight spell,
A gleam from yonder vale,
Some far blue fell;
And sympathies, how frail,
In sound and smell!

Till at thy chuckled note,
Thou twinkling bird,
The fairy fancies range,
And, lightly stirred,
Ring little bells of change
From word to word.

For now the Heavenly Power
Makes all things new,
And thaws the cold, and fills
The flower with dew;
The blackbirds have their wills,
The poets too.

A boisterous wind tore through almost bare ground, where a few crocus leaves were already beginning to peek out from among the snow. Anne shuddered, and turned her back to the enchantingly shimmering nature.

On the Lowbridge side the Women's Sewing Society held an emergency meeting, was it right to attend this suggestion of Cornelia Elliot of the Glen or not? Opinions were thrown as sharp as needles, and Sophia Crawford, dressed in gray silk and a white muslin cap, had arrived for the first time in years after moving to Glen, in Lowbridge side just for this meeting, watched the situation, unfold and enjoyed herself immensely. And on the other side of the room, in the crossfire of cold and curious eyes, Mrs Dick Parker, tapped her hands together sharply, a few times. Slowly almost mutual consensus were reatched.

Week later, Cornelia Elliot was walking the streets of the Glen with her head even higher than usual.

At the Manse Rosemary Meredith circled a space on her calendar. Sparkling Mahler played by Una glowed through the house, like a sweet mist, and Bruce's cat slept purring in the sun. In his study John Meredith glanced in the mirror, and was startled to see narrow streaks of gray in his raven-black hair. On the table was Jerry's latest letter, a short hasty scribble.

Father,

Maybe something big is coming, soon, as there is exitement in the air. I'm trying to stay safe as long as I can, God willing it so. I often think here of our last conversation. How the wind raised dust into the air, and your study was an oasis of shadows and knowledge. I always carry my Bible in my pocket, and sometimes I read excerpts from it to others. I do not have your ability to touch the souls of my comrades, although I am a skilled speaker, but unlike you I yearn for debates, and arguments of various kind, and moral puzzles, not everytime but some of the time. Pastoral or theological path is not for me, I think. Despite all the surrounding inhumanity, I am satisfied that I am here, I am doing my part, and my duty, as you have taught me by your own example, because those virtues have borne a good harvest in me, and in all of us, your children. Perhaps someday I can speak of my experiences, but I believe, now perhaps, that I know in part His solitude in Gehetsemane.

Enough of the deep talk for now, for here lights will soon go out, and I must finish this letter. I will send dear greetings to Mother R, and my sisters, and little Bruce.

With loving regards

G

Ps. Every night I look at two photos, one is all of you, and the other is Nan.

With narrowest, most delicate fingers John Knox Meredith touched the worn, stained paper, and closing his eyes he saw Jerry's bright face, standing by Jem's side in his uniform, at Glen Station, that summer nearly three years ago, when the known world had fallen apart, and Armageddon had arrived. And glancing at the letter once more, he stood by tinted window, and piano playing echoed, as music shimmered, light, powerful like a wave, and John suddenly thought of golden spring, and beauty and everlasting love.

When Nan opened the door to Primrose Hollow she almost tripped over the pile of mail that had arrived, and setting the books she had borrowed from Dorian on the table. Nan sorted through the mail, two letters from Ingelside, and one letter addressed to Di. There was no letters from the front this time, and a quiet worry began to tug at her heart again. The latest Perennial had finally appeared for general distribution, and Nan excitedly read Dorian's preface, and glanced at the contents of the magazine curiously, finally stopping at Di's essay, and sitting down in the best place in the living room, and putting her feet up, Nan dived into her twin's words, the moments floated by and Nan was transported into different world.

Then a sudden crash from somewhere upstairs sharpened Nan's senses and her first thought was that there might be burglars in the Hollow, but after a quick look, everything seemed normal, although for some reason there was a jar of cherry jam half open on the kitchen table, and jam had clearly been taken from it, but the teapot it was cold, and there didn't seem to be any baking utensils on display anywhere, because sometimes, when she was in a good mood, Alice had made for them extremely delicious cherry pies with pieces of plum in them.

Carefully Nan crept up the stairs, hallway was quiet, the door to Alice's room was closed and so was Faith's, and to Nan's surprise, she found that the door to her and Di's room was half open, and the window too. Curtains were already swaying slightly in the light breeze. Nan closed the window. Spacious, colorful room was empty, but Di's side was a little disorganized, in her neat way Nan picked up the things that were scattered on her twin's bed. A green silk dressing gown with the belt missing and an open envelope that seemed to contain some sort of postcards or photos.

Then a picture dropped from the cover onto geenish knitted beadspread, and Nan turned it over. And for a moment she didn't understand what she saw at all. Then she looked more closely, and suddenly with trembling hands pushed the picture back into the envelope, hastily, and wiping her hands on her hems. She closed her eyes, but without success, as scene depicted by the picture had drawn disturbingly, deviantly, clearly, into her consciousness. The thought that perhaps Di, just might, might want to do immoral, and unmentionable things, that were shown in that card, was simply strange, but also interesting to know, in faint academic way. For this was not at all what Mumsy had told her and Di with bright red cheeks, in veiled turns of phrase, that summer when they both had turned thirteen.

Feeling very insecure, Nan decided to go downstairs to drink tea, maybe the routine of making tea would calm her down. Resolutely, Nan raised her chin, and was just about to put her foot down on the first step, of sturdy stairs, when there was a small crash from the bathroom, and a sound similar to someone hitting their elbow on the edge of a bath tub. A little worried, but also curious, Nan crept closer.

The door was slightly ajar, there was a mirror, it showed the whole room in panorama wiew. Nan almost let out a small sigh of relief, which she quickly stifled however, as at first glance it looked like Di and Alice both in their thin, almost transaparent shifts, were only lounging next to each other in the bath, curling stream lingered in the air, and there was few candles lit, their flames wavered.

Nan noticed that Di's braid was wrapped around her head it was usually rare, and the hair-ribbon was light blue in shade, so it must have belonged to Alice, then. Usually Alice was as pale and rose tinted, as fair-skinned Rilla, no freckles, of course, but not now, a hectic, scarlet color that resembled pink lupin flowers shone on her features, when Di turned to her, and seemed to ask something, and Alice's head dipped a little as if with a light nod. Then Alice suddenly bent, almost in an arch, and she trembled, and there was almost blissful look on her face. Moments passed and then Nan saw Di lift her face, her twin's eyes were holding a look that Nan had never seen before. It was bright, extremely tender, and somehow triumphant at the same time.

Feeling embarassed Nan lowered her eyes, as she looked towards mirror again, Nan was surprised to see that Alice, her cheeks still red, and her braid very untidy, took a small plate from the little shelf, and a spoon. Di, Nan noticed, seemed to be pleased, then Alice, moved closer to Di, and dropped, with a deliberate, slightly feigned dignity, and a really, mischievously saucy smile that changed Alice's face completely, a spoonful of cherry jam on Di's collarbone, as if she had done it often. To Nan's confusion, Di just smiled widely, as Alice began to lightly lick the jam off. Di's slender arms slowly but surely wrapped around Alice and pressed tender kiss to her upturned lips.

Cheeks burning, Nan turned her back to the too revealing mirror, as she felt that she must get out of Primrose Hollow, or she´ll would probably brust into hysterical tears, as all her emotions were high strung, at the moment. Quietly she took her coat and slipped out, pressing the door shut behind her, and locking it tightly.

The sky was bright blue, that pale, powerful shade that was only in early spring. Restlessly, Nan wandered along the familiar paths, and finally she ended up at Swan Cove, which the little pond was sometimes called, there were not any swans in recidence. Nan folded her coat under her, and sat down on the wrought-iron bench, and tried to collect her thoughts, but it was quite impossible, for all that she had read over the weeks and months about these immoral vices, all legalese, and other surprising things, in tattered coverless books hidden under counters, and corners, and old Greek Myths, and more modern ways, and means, paled in comparison to the simple, merciless truth that Di was her twin, and she could never turn her back, or her heart to her.

Sighing quietly, Nan started to walk forward through the slightly muddy parks, in one corner she saw a glazebo. Nan walked there with slow steps. Dark gloom reigned, there,and there was a light scent of cold stone, and withered vines. Nan took a folded picture of Jerry from her pocket and looked at it in silence. If she was quite honest with herself, her own blood thrumming in her veins at the very idea, in some strange way Nan wanted to try perhaps, something like that with Jerry sometime, if ever suitable opportunity could come in their way, but naturally they would be have to be married first, otherwise it would be quite improper. Feeling a little calmer, even though conflicting emotions were still bubbling in her chest. Nan glanced up at the sky. The light had changed, the previous almost pure blue shade had darkened, and now the sky looked like molten silver.

Faith was sitting in the living room reading a book, she looked up and remarked, "Did you go for a walk, the hems of your dress are a little muddy, it's an extremely beautiful day for that. Alice and Di are upstairs, I think, or maybe in the library. " Nan nodded, as she began to draft, fresh letter to Jerry.

In her room, Alice tried to comb her hair, although it was hopeless as her braid was a complete mess. And Di's amused voice remarked, "That wasn't really on my mind today, but impulsiveness is one of your strengths, and who knows, maybe you'll be inspired more often."

Alice turned in her chair, and wrapped her pink silk dressing gown around herself and said in a light playful manner, "It was entirely your own fault that you showed what you had borrowed from Ernestine."

Di grinned, and said, "Useful collection, isn't it." Di lingered on Alice's bed, saying in a coaxing manner, "A bath is nice, but privacy is better in a room with a lock." Alice smiled and got up, slowly. Greedily, Di followed graceful, uncovered lines of Alice with her eyes, and softly, lingeringly kissed the exposed skin, and her hands roamed the silky skin, searching, demanding and finding. Tenderly Alice's head bent against Di's shoulder, as she kissed her skin lightly, and with her other hand, she took, a length of green silk belt, that she folded in half…

The next morning, Saturday's peace slowly spread through the house, and in the bluish morning, the fragrant aroma of pancakes was extremely delicious.

It was time of Lent.

One by one girls of Primrose Hollow arrived at the breakfast table, Faith, in her carefree way, said "Alice, you take cherry jam with your tea, don't you? There happens to be an already opened jar here, how strange."

Nan found it hard to look in Alice's or Di's direction, but she managed it with poise and proud grace. Nan saw how, Di handed Alice a full cup of tea, as usual, and the blond girl spooned jam into her tea, quite calmly, but now that Nan was watching, she noticed that Alice's hand was shaking slightly as as Di remarked in offhand way, "Faith, I happened to use that jam yesterday, as I wanted something sweet."

Nan startled, and dropped her teaspoon on the table-cloth as suddenly several breakfasts during which Alice and Di had been in their own little bubble, as if nothing had touched them, and a thousand little ordinary everyday things, had suddenly taken on a new meaning, since yesterday.

Nan, raised her teacup, to cover her face, and in a low voice she said "There's been a few letters from Ingelside, and one for you Di, which seems to be from Toronto, judging by the postmarks, but why would Aunt Leslie write to you? "

Faith said curiously "Oh, have you finally written about your VAD plans to Ingelside?" Di, nodded, as she said, "I wrote there nearly three weeks ago, now." There was a slight shadow on Alice's face, slowly she got up from the table and fetched letters and brought them in a neat stack, on the table.

With the smell of tea and pancakes still wafting through the living room, Di glanced at the envelopes, and seeing familiar handwriting, and smiling slightly, she said to Nan, "Nanlet, you're wrong, because unless I'm completely mistaken this letter is from Persis."

Faith remarked, "Persis, isn't she Ken Ford's sister. I remember seeing her once walking streets of the Glen with you, Nan some years ago. I remembered being jealous, before I noticed that almost everyone, young or old, except Jem, glanced at her, more than once. I´m not a vain person, but Persis is very, spectacular, is probably the right expression." Alice's questioning humorous voice broke the silence, "Even Walter, huh?" Nan and Di exchanged glances, and finally Di shook her head.

A small smile played on Alice's face, and she said mischievously, "Well, if she's Ken Ford's sister, perhaps she might be an interesting acquaintance, if I ever happen to meet her, for I can say that the few times I spent time with her brother in the summer of 1914, were quite pleasant, in its own way."

Di's face had a distant expression, as quietly, she said "Persis is Persis, there is no other way to describe her." Nan noticed Alice throw a sudden sharp look in Di's direction, and her expression softened subtly. Faith said impatiently, "Well, that's fine, but I'm interested to know if I'm going to get Di to accompany me to England or not?" Di threw an amused look in Faith's direction, and said, "If you can hold your curiosity a little longer, take a piece of pancake and eat, and maybe in a little while I can enlighten you."

Sealing wax rustled as Di cut open Anne's letter as silence thickened.

Nan saw Di's face grow pale, and then with a fierce gesture she crumpled up the letter, got up from the table, and ran upstairs. Faith said, "Perhaps there were no desirable words in the letter after all." Alice looked unflinchingly into Nan's hazel eyes. She smiled softly and said in her modest, sweet way, "If I'm not quite mistaken, Di, needs your support and understanding, now." Nan, nodded at Alice in fleeting way, before scampering upstairs.

In their room, Nan inquired "What was in the letter?" Di, lifted her blotchy face from the pillow and handed Nan, a well crumpled letter.

She said in a bitter belladonna voice, italics in almost every syllable, "I can't get into VAD training. Mumsy writes very nicely but it's a no-no, and there's Dads opinion too, which is also negative. Why won't they let me go?!" Nan glanced at the clear lines of the letter, it seemed that Mumsy's hand had been shaking in places, for the strips had lines with ink blots and cross-outs, it looked more like a sketch than a proper letter. One saw that writing it had been by no means easy.

Softly she embraced her twin, as Di's tears fell onto Nan's hand.

Week or so later, in the misty predawn darkness of Primrose Hollow´s livingroom, Nan felt her twin's slim fingers combing her Ingelside twins watched the dawn come, and then, as the first rays touched the windows.

Di turned to Nan, and said in a trembling voice, "Nanlet, I have something to tell you that I should have said weeks ago, but it's so hard to find the words for it, there are almost none, and it's ironic, because I love words, as you know. And you said earlier that you would listen with an open mind, if at all possible. It has to do with Alice, the thing is, I happen to."

Nan turned, lightly, and took Di's pale face, between her smaller hands, and said gently, with utmost delicacy, "Di, you do care about Alice, don't you?" Nan felt Di, stiffen, then very, very slowly, Nan felt Di nod.

Di asked in a shivering voice, "How did you know?" Nan pondered what to say for a moment, and finally said quietly. "All kinds of little things, really. You've never been able to keep your emotions in check if you really care about someone, and there was that french novel, that I still consider quite immoral. Besides, since last September you've sometimes looked at Alice the way you used to look at Persis Ford during our childhood summers. The most important thing is that you trusted me and finally told me what was on your mind.

Slowly, Nan wrapped her hand around Di's hand and squeezed it tightly.

There was shrill whistle of a teapan, Alice clattered in the kitchen, there was a light humming, floating cadences of Houseman´s poem-cycle "A Shropshire Lad" glimmered faintly. Soon light scent of brewed tea perfumed the room, as well as scent of fresh carrot buns.

Then fresh newspaper clattered to the doormat.