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"
Bosh
!
"
said
Lavinia
Nebbs
.
"
It
’
ll
be
you
alone
on
the
path
,
listening
to
your
shoes
,
not
me
.
You
all
alone
on
the
way
back
to
your
house
.
Lavinia
,
don
’
t
you
get
lonely
living
in
that
house
?
"
"
Old
maids
love
to
live
alone
.
"
Lavinia
pointed
at
the
hot
shadowy
path
leading
down
into
the
dark
.
"
Let
’
s
take
the
short
cut
.
"
"
I
’
m
afraid
!
"
"
It
’
s
early
.
Lonely
One
won
’
t
be
out
till
late
.
"
Lavinia
took
the
other
’
s
arm
and
led
her
down
and
down
the
crooked
path
into
the
cricket
warmth
and
frog
sound
and
mosquito
-
delicate
silence
.
They
brushed
through
summer
-
scorched
grass
,
burs
prickling
at
their
bare
ankles
.
"
Let
’
s
run
!
"
gasped
Francine
.
"
No
!
"
They
turned
a
curve
in
the
path
—
and
there
it
was
.
In
the
singing
deep
night
,
in
the
shade
of
warm
trees
,
as
if
she
had
laid
herself
out
to
enjoy
the
soft
stars
and
the
easy
wind
,
her
hands
at
either
side
of
her
like
the
oars
of
a
delicate
craft
,
lay
Elizabeth
Ramsell
!
Francine
screamed
.
