But Gosse began to drag her towards the door. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. ‘Alors, you make a game with me, I see that. “My friend,” she said, “I have been your pupil for two years. I heard from David about you only this morning. 82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. And, if ever I'm brought to the gallows, I shall lay my death at her door. It's a pity you wouldn't give me the prescription instead of the medicine, so I could have it filled nearer home. You are nothing of the sort. Beyond was a field sloping steeply upwards, and at the top a small pine plantation.
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