He was looking forward to putting the whole matter out of his mind for a space, and sitting in the parlor with his feet up and the doors to the garden open to let in the late spring evening air. It was fine and balmy, the sort of day when the smells of the earth linger heavily and overtake the awareness of a mighty city beyond the garden walls. One could think only of flowers, cut lawns, shady trees and moths drifting lazily in the stillness. However as soon as he entered the hallway he knew that was not to be. Charlotte came out of the parlor, her face grave, a warning in her eyes. “What is it?” he said with apprehension. “Matthew is here to see you,” she replied softly, aware of the open door behind her. “He looks very worried, but he wouldn’t tell me anything about it.” “You asked him?” “No, of course I didn’t. But I made … listening noises.” He smiled in spite of himself, touched her gently as he passed and went into the parlor. Matthew was sitting in Pitt’s favorite chair, staring out of the open French windows across the lawn towards the apple tree.
