But he seized the chance to entrap her fingers, fan and all, and look deeply into her eyes. “Why, it’s David!” he exclaimed. ‘Is he meeting you here then, my dear?’ ‘He had better,’ said Lucilla. Her hormones were raging stupidly. You will not have to wait long for the information. There was no marriage, and I hated, oh, how I hated the man. This spot, which still retains its name, acquired the appellation from an old crone who lived there, and who, in addition to a very equivocal character for honesty, enjoyed the reputation of being a witch.
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