He declined supper, but took wine. “He spends hours of every day on the pavement below,” Anna answered calmly. “I have loved you,” he was saying, “ever since you sat on that gate and talked. He was full of fabulous stories, not just tales of his own past in Rome but wonderful fables from the mysterious Orient and the ancient Greeks, old jokes and yarns that only he remembered. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. D'ye hear how the wanes creaks on old Winchester House? We shall have a touch on it ourselves presently.
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