Moored to the steps, several wherries were dancing in the rushing current, as if impatient of restraint. This vessel is now in the river, off Wapping. But that, and that sort of thing, is just a day-dream. If I had never met anything of you at all but a scrap of your skin binding a book, Ann Veronica, I know I would have kept that somewhere near to me. Here was the place behind the shed where she had used to hide from Roddy’s persecutions, and here the border of herbaceous perennials under whose stems was fairyland. Glancing idly up at her own window as they had swung round the corner she had seen a strange thing.
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