Sepulchre's clock struck eight. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. She loved Florence, wandering the huge markets which bustled day and night. ” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. “It’s his birthday. He glanced out of the window, looked back at the major and grasped the handle of the door. “I wish that I could forget it,” he said. ‘Have I not said so?’ ‘No, as it happens. But all that could be ascertained in the village was, that a man had ridden off a short time before in the direction of London. The only departure which he made from the fashion of the period, was in respect to the peruke—an article he could never be induced to wear. As if he read her thought, he spoke it aloud.
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