To feel Isobel’s arms around him, her body warm against his and to listen to her words of love was, he often thought, like drinking until it was impossible to think clearly or to be tortured by memories.
Although she could not put it into words, Sandra sensed this and she thought now,
‘Perhaps Papa will not listen to me. Perhaps he will make me go to Great-Aunt Matilda. That really would be like being buried alive.’
She wondered wildly how she could escape.
The sensible course would be to return to her grandfather and grandmother in Devon.
Although they had had her to stay for over a year, and she had been happy with them, she had known with a sensitive perceptiveness which was part of her character that, when she left them, they were looking forward to being alone together again.
‘N
