Hunter’s Green by Phyllis A. Whitney EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Author: Phyllis A. Whitney
- Language: English
- Genre: Gothic Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
I have no past, I have no future. I have only the immediate present.
Today I looked out among the sculptured yew shapes of an English
garden and saw my husband for the first time in two years. Today I stood
before the gates of Athmore, lost among other gaping visitors. I climbed the
long walk to the high front terrace of the house where I had once lived—
and found myself anonymous.
Ahead of me the stones of Athmore glowed like warm honey in the
spring sunshine, instead of frowning cold gray upon an American intruder
as they had once done. I meant nothing to the house. I had been put aside
once and for all. I had loved Athmore and I’d hated it—but I had not come
here to see the house.
It seemed necessary to make my approach quietly, to get well within the
grounds and establish my presence before I could be caught and sent
peremptorily packing. Fortunately, I had found it simple enough to get
down from London and make my secret assault upon the gates. As soon as
the airport bus brought me into the city I had hurried to an agency office
and learned that a tour would leave shortly on an overnight trip, stopping at
another house or two along the way and winding up at Athmore in the
afternoon. I had booked my place and taken my suitcase aboard the tour
bus, meaning to stay at the village until … until whatever I had come for
was completed.
I cared nothing about seeing the other houses just then and I had found
myself waiting in strange gardens, sitting idly in the sun, or aboard the bus
until we could be off again. In between I rode the miles away in my window
seat, lost in the turnings of my own mind.
All those contradictory turnings! Somehow I must free myself of old ties,
as I had not been able to do back home in New York. The only thing to do
with dead love is to bury it. The letter from Maggie Graham had reached
me a week ago, and I’d spent the hours since reading it over and over,
assuring myself that Justin North meant nothing to me anymore, and that
my marriage to him, was an impossible mistake. But emotion cannot be
buried by words, though it can be aroused by them. Only seeing him again
would set me free.
There was no more need to hate him furiously, as I had when I ran away
from Athmore.
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