CHAPTER 19Ina Felton was very unhappy. Once your eyes are open you can’t help seeing things, and once you have seen them you can’t go back to the time when you didn’t know they were there. She locked her door, and thought about Cyril in the spare room. And wondered whether he would come and turn her handle and try to get her to let him in.
She stood a long time at her window looking out over the sea, but he didn’t come. It was a relief, but it was the kind of relief which comes when you have made up your mind not to go on hoping any more. The night was lovely—no moon, but light coming from the sky, and the air a dark transparency. She could see the blossom against the garden wall glimmering like a ghost, its rosy colour gone. She could see the slow resistless movement of the tide. It was
