Chapter 23 THE MEETING IN THE FOREST

Morice Conyers stood leaning against the gnarled trunk of a mulberry-tree.

It mattered nothing to him that his view was bounded by a cluster of shrubs and a stone wall; he was gazing at neither.

What was Cécile thinking of him now? What was she saying? What doing?

Each question was a torture.

Jéhan had returned to Kérnak.

If only he