THE LEGEND OF THE PERFECT FOOD A foretaste of autumn had crept into the midst of summer.

There were gray clouds in the sky, a north wind booming across the moors.

Burton even shivered as he walked down the hill to the house where she lived.
There was still gorse, still heather, still a few roses in the garden and a glimmering vision of the beds of other flowers in the background.
But the sun which gave them life was hidden.

Burton looked eagerly into the garden and his heart sank.

There was no sign there of any living person.