267/272 She remembered that tree whose branches turned over like a waterfall and something that looked like a little old woman in a shawl bending to pick up sticks but which was an old stump covered with creepers. A wide streak of yellow light fell through open French windows across the veranda and on to the grass, all dew-covered. a woman's voice, not merry, and with a break in it.... When the cat's away, the mice, in the shape of one of the servants... |