No other white people within twenty miles. There was enough contra-light to render her ethereal. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. She remembered the doctor's warning that the real battle would begin when the patient recovered consciousness. Her heart in her mouth, hoping against hope, Melusine made her way back to where she had left the boy. Maggot.
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