Since they met today, he had been addressing Lawrence Winters as "Miss Winters," a courteous yet distant form of address that Lawrence was hardly used to.
Now that Francis Johnson resumed calling her "Lawrence," her tense nerves finally relaxed.
She let go of Kenneth Osborne's hand, smiled at him, and then walked step by step toward the small house with yellow jasmine flowers hanging down from the roof.
Kenneth Osborne watched her graceful silhouette swaying over the flat lawn, ethereal among the splendid flowers, drifting further and further away.
The door of the small house opened, and Lawrence Winters went inside. Darkness descended; there were no streetlights around, only a few strands of warm light streaming from the windows, illuminating a small area around.
Once inside, Lawrence Winters saw a double-sided embroidered screen.
The room was not large, and the presence of a screen as tall as a person made it feel even smaller.
