This was not the closed garden, evidently, and she could go into it.
She went through the door and found that it was a garden with walls all round it and that it was only one of several walled gardens which seemed to open into one another.

She saw another open green door, revealing bushes and pathways between beds containing winter vegetables.

Fruit-trees were trained flat against the wall, and over some of the beds there were glass frames.

The place was bare and ugly enough, Mary thought, as she stood and stared about her.

It might be nicer in summer when things were green, but there was nothing pretty about it now.
Presently an old man with a spade over his shoulder walked through the door leading from the second garden.