Page 45 - Secret Garden

When she stepped closer, he tugged her shawl, checking that she was neither ghost
nor dream. Mary offered to pinch him, if that would help, but he didn’t seem to like the idea.
“I heard crying, so I came to see who . . . why do they keep you secret?”
“They know I don’t want people seeing me – or talking about me. I’m ill, you know – I’ll
probably die!”