In the evenings sometimes we saw movement in the darkness on the lawn, and heard whispers. “Don’t; the ladies might be watching.” “You think they can see in the dark?” “I heard they see everything that goes on.” Then there might be laughter, drifting away into the warm darkness. “They will soon be calling this Lover’s Lane,” Constance said. “After Charles, no doubt.” “The least Charles could have done,” Constance said, considering seriously, “was shoot himself through the head in the driveway.”
