She is hurrying along the path from the glasshouse, back towards the kitchen. He raps on the glass, but she doesn’t hear him, doesn’t look up. He fumbles with the latch, flings the window open wide, and leans out over the sill. “Annie!” he calls. “Annie!” She looks up, startled, trying to locate the shout, tipping her head, like a bird, towards the sound. “Annie!” he calls again. “Over here.” She turns off the path, comes to stand near enough to hear him properly, his body arched over the window sill, anchored in the warm mustiness of his room, thrust forward into sunlight and the scent of roses. “Yes, sir?” “Could you come in here a minute, please.” Eldon regains his dignity, heaves his body back into the room as though it is an empty net he has cast into the ocean and he is hauling it back in full of fish. He closes the window, stands by his map table, waiting for her small knock on the door. “Come in.” Annie is nervous to be in the library in daylight with Mr.
