They approached the Manoir through the vineyards and in a few moments saw the high roof and green-stained walls through the sycamore branches.
'It's happier now the leaves aren't out to hide it,' said Jill.
'All the same, it's an uncanny place,' said Graham. 'Was ever anything so still? Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.—You're like Childe Roland, Jill.'
'Well, I'll blow my horn, then,' said Jill. Graham had read 'Childe Roland' to her and she had liked it. She put her hand to the door in the wall and pushed it open; but the bell did not clang above their heads. It still hung there, they saw; but the chain was broken, so it was in silence that they approached up the mossy path.
'What a pity we're too late for the snow-drops,' Jill whispered. They've been everywhere.'
As they stood at the door debating whether to knock or ring, a young woman came in the rain round the corner of the house. She wore a black mackintosh and one hand held a black knitted shawl under her chin; the other carried an earthenware dish. She had a pale face and dark eyes and she stopped short on seeing them and stood looking at them for a moment, as an animal stops to look when confronted by an unexpected object. There was something in her gaze that made Jill think of an animal; it was so grave and so unconscious; and after the pause of contemplation she turned and disappeared as she had come.
'Can it be Mademoiselle Ludérac?' Jill whispered.
