“Joy, come and look, ” Joan called softly.
Joy’s Schubert Impromptu came to a sudden end and she rose from the piano.
“Bother you, Joan! Why did you spoil it? I was miles away.”
“I’m sorry. But you can dream some other time. This seems likely to be important. It’s very odd.”
Joy came through the long windows on to the terrace, where her cousin leaned on the stone balustrade and gazed across the lawn. They were much alike, tall, good-looking girls, with brown eyes and beautiful dark red hair; Joan, the elder by a month, wore hers in big plaits round her head; Joy’s was rolled up over her ears. They were nineteen, and had left school a year ago.
The Hall, on the terrace of which they stood, had come to Joy from her grandfather three years before. The Abbey ruins, in the grounds of the big house, had been left to Joan, to her great joy and pride.
“What’s very odd?” Joy stood beside Joan and stared at the drive, where a figure had appeared at the end of the beech avenue. “Somebody coming? Who is it?”
“Yes, who is it? Look again.”
“It looks like Angus Reekie. It can’t be Angus! He’s in Glasgow.”
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