As they went down two steps, and the door closed behind them, they were momentarily blinded by the contrast between the moonlight and the light from the unshaded kitchen windows.
They found themselves on a concrete walk which ran along the back of the house, parallel with it, to a garage at the other end. A gravel path at right angles to the concrete one led straight out into the rose-garden. Passing a garden shed, they had gone a little way down the gravel path when Ann spoke.
"Why did H.M. ask about that?"
It was as though he could feel the alert, searching intelligence working beside him. The scent of the rose-garden, without color yet with its suggestion of hot color, closed in around them.
"Is there something in grapefruit," she said, "that would be bad for — well, for lockjaw poisoning?"
"I don't know. Grapefruit's an acid. Or is it an alkaloid? Anyway, it's strong stuff."
Beyond the garden lay a stretch of open lawn with a few apple and plum trees. A gate in the high stone wall led out into the lane of grass. As he opened the gate, Ann turned round.
"Please. It's awfully kind of you to offer to go home with me. But I'd rather you didn't."
— He felt a rush of disappointment.
"It's not that I don't want you to," she told him quickly. "I'd love you to. It's just that there's something I've got to think out. Now. Something I can't talk about, even to you. And then maybe I shall be better company. You don't mind?"