The sun was rising, illuminating the trees in black as if they were drawn in ink. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. If you knew your aunt were alive, if she expected you, that would be different. She fluttered it with a trembling hand, averting her eyes from his, and he could hear her uneven breath behind it. Ann Veronica was not aware of this literary side of her teacher; she had a little tinge of annoyance at Miss Garvice’s advantage.
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