Follow a Stranger

but each time she managed to steady herself. She kept

going, breathing quickly, her hands scratched and

bleeding slightly, her knees and back aching.

When she reached the top she sat down, panting, and

stared back the way she had come. From here the climb

looked dizzyingly steep, and she wondered how she had

had the nerve to attempt it—and also how she was to get

down! Then she shrugged. Sufficient unto the day was the

evil thereof...

She found Peter lying on his face, stretched flat out, the

only part of him which moved his hand, which was

delicately scraping at the dusty covering of soil which lay

everywhere over the ruins.

He turned his head to squint at her as she approached,

and, without a sign of surprise or enquiry, said, “Careful!

I’ve begun marking out the ground plan with string. Don’t

trip over it or you’ll pull out the pegs and I’ll have it all to

do again.”

“You’ve been busy,” she commented, staring around

her.

The site was laid out on a flattish plateau, in a

vaguely rectangular shape, with three broad stone steps

running all the way around the building. The roof had

been supported by the usual pillars, some of which still

stood, in more or less battered condition, rearing up

towards the open blue sky, tapering to their plain

capitals, their stone flaking away along the sides. Blocks

of stone lay everywhere, among the wiry grass and

yellow flowers. It was touching to Kate to see how the

stone steps were hollowed out by generations of reverent