One of the maids was a passingly fair artist, and she sketched your likeness on the evening you visited the manor. Someone else later used that sketch...to do this portrait. Another of the maids overheard the discussion you'd had with the master. It was all written down here." He thumped the tome with his knuckles."We fled thinking you were a destroyer, come to take our master from us and kill us all. It wasn't until we reached America many years later that the full story came out." He hung his. "Good " said Sue; "He won't give us any more resistance. " Meanwhile Heather had finished with my brows and was checking my hair to see if it was dry. I was dry so she began removing the perm rods. I noticed in the mirror that each strand that she removed was extremely curly and seemed to have shrunk to half its previous length. I looked almost like Shirley Temple, a bright red haired Shirley Temple. "Oh yes," Heather said, "that first treatment was a hair dye, you are now a red head. And don't. There’s even a patch of woodland just towards the crown of the hill beyond, like an island out in the middle of the manor land. The lord of the manor still has shooting parties and it’s still absolutely forbidden to go play there, so it’s where I used to stare longingly as a kid. Even today, sitting in my tree-house with it’s window looking out towards the forbidden forest - I long.That’s the reality of rural life in England today. It’s the twenty-first century and quaint country ways still. “Well I..” I started. ” How often do you stare at me?” She asked. “Truthfully? Just about everyday.” I told her. “Oh, is it mostly my behind?” She asked. “Mostly…”I said casually. “Well, to be honest, I’ve stared at you a few times too,” she told me. “And to be truthful Rajat, if it wasn’t for the trouble with affairs, I’d try more then just staring at a guy like you.” Trouble with affairs? I asked myself, what was she talking about? “Oh, I understand, you can hardly trust anyone with stuff.
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