It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. “Ciao, Fragolina. The few pence left in her purse would only provide a very scanty lunch. She did not bother with the backpack despite its due tomorrow status. But I sent him the longest way about. Ruth's mind was fertile soil; for a long time to come it would be something of a hothouse: green things would spring up and blossom overnight. She quickened her pace, and so did he, talking at her slightly averted ear.
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