She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. Mr. She lay very still and closed her eyes, hear tears gliding off of her ears, causing them to itch. This is a noted place for highwaymen. It is only a matter of time before he presents himself to whoever has the deeds to Remenham House—a lawyer I presume—and claims that property for his wife’s.
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