CHAPTER FIVEThe woods were dense around Esmé’s cottage and Charles’s progress was slow. Now and then a bird called from a low bough, or a squirrel pattered up the bark of a tree. Faro pricked up his ears at these sounds but otherwise plodded on with his head down.
He marvelled that Esmé was unafraid to live alone amid such silence.
He crossed a stream and found a rough track on the other side. This seemed at last a contact with that outside world from which he felt he had been in exile.
He wondered whether he would ever have left the unhurried life of the forest had it not been for the memory of Davina. The call of duty was strong, but so was the call of paradise. The call of love, however, was stronger than either.
The trees had thinned and dappled afternoon sunlight fell across his p
