Any one less courageous than himself would have abandoned the attempt from a conviction of its utter hopelessness; but, though it might for a moment damp his ardour, it could not deter him. “I am a fool,” he said. Diane did not hear the footsteps on her brick patio or the audible click of the back door lock being compromised. It consisted, like pre-Roman Gaul, of three parts. “I am sure you will marry Nigel sooner or later, and then all your work will be thrown away. You are much more like what I was then. A quick flush stained her cheeks. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall.
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