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left or down to the rippling, deep and equally dangerous waters of the lake on her right. Stones chinked beneath her feet and an owl hooted close by, the suddenness of it making her heart leap in alarm. A farm dog, sensing her passing, or perhaps scenting the fox which was raiding the hen-coop, barked hysterically, then stopped in mid-voice as though a heavy hand had persuaded him to do so .
    She reached The Packhorse at midnight, just as Anthony and the troupe of strolling players who were drinking with him were becoming deep in their cups. They were singing some bawdy song, crashing their ale pots on the table and the landlord, whose wife did not care for such `goings-on', being accustomed to a less vigorous class of customer, shepherds and farmers and the like, was about to remonstrate .
    The whole of the bar-parlour fell silent as Annie hesitated in the doorway. She had the look of a weary child about her, pale, delicate with great smudges beneath her wide, frightened eyes. The bruise her father had given her made her appear even more vulnerable and when Anthony Graham saw her hovering there his masculine body surged towards her in ferocious and uncaring need. He stood up triumphantly, then moved across the room to take her hands, bringing them to his lips in the gallant gesture for which her girlish heart had craved on the long walk from Hause. He turned for a moment to wink at his friends who whistled and clapped their hands and stamped their feet in perfect understanding, but Annie was too tired, too love-struck to know what it meant.
    “ Come," he whispered smilingly, leading her away from the noisy group and up the stairs until they reached the door of the room he shared with three others. Guiding her through he locked it behind him and within five minutes, less, Annie's trembling and virginal body was revealed to his lecherous gaze in all its naked innocence. He did not speak nor even kiss her. What was there to say? She was already his with no need of pretty speeches or persuasion .
    It was all over within minutes. She was laid on the bed with scant interest in her half-hearted protests since she wanted to tell him how much she loved him; to hear how much he loved her and desired nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with her. That was why she had left Browhead, because of their love but he didn't seem to want to know. He pulled painfully at her breasts and bit her belly, leaving teeth marks which would turn black by morning. He forced her legs open and thrust himself inside her with such force and rapidity she scarcely knew what was happening until the pain knifed her between her thighs and the blood flowed .
    He fell asleep on top of her. Her breasts hurt and her belly was on fire, as was that part of her body that had no name. The softness and gentleness he had shown her .. . where had it gone? . . . and where was the man she had loved so devotedly for the past twelve hours? Was this it? Was this love? Is this what happened when two people loved one another? Was it? Mother . . . oh, Mother .. . where are you? and Lizzie's frightened face slipped behind her closed eyelids. Is this what she suffers every night of her life . . . Oh, Mother .. .
    Anthony snored beside her where she had heaved him and outside the door men shouted to be let in but gradually the noise died away and, being a tired and healthy child, she slept .
     
    Chapter 3
    The girl on the bed gave one last heave and the child slid out from her as easily as a dab of butter, the woman in attendance was to tell Hesper later that afternoon. It lay peaceably between its mother's thighs with none of the new-born infant's lusty rage at being propelled head first into a world it was not sure it would care for. It was as though it was born with the knowledge of the precarious state of its mother's position in life and the uncertainty of their future together.
    “ A girl, me duck," Polly Pearsall said cheerfully, "thank the Good Lord, fer there's