For my sister Hilary and for Robert Liddell this story of an imaginary village
On the Sunday after Easter -- Low Sunday, Emma believed it was called -- the villagers were permitted to walk in the park and woods surrounding the manor.
Something was wrong with Emma's omelette this evening - the eggs not enough beaten, the tablespoon of water omitted, something not quite as it should be.
"I always love a walk in the woods," said Isobel. "We must remember that,", said Adam gallantly. "Do you see many foxes here?" Isobel asked. "Oh yes - and you can find their traces in the woods," said Daphne eagerly. "Did you know that a fox's dung is grey and pointed at both ends?" Nobody did know and there was a brief silence. It seemed difficult to follow such a stunning piece of information.
She could write a novel and even, as she was beginning to realize, embark on a love affair which need not necessarily be an unhappy one.