The Well of Loneliness

One morning a very young cherry-tree that Mary herself had planted in the garden was doing the most delightful things -- it was pushing out leaves and tight pink buds along the whole length of its childish branches. Stephen made a note of it in her diary: "Today Mary's cherry-tree started to blossom. " This is why she never forgot the date on which she received Martin Hallam's letter.

The letter had been redirected from Morton; she recognized Puddle's scholastic handwriting. And the other writing -- large, rather untidy, but with strong black downstrokes and firmly crossed T's -- she stared at it thoughtfully, puckering her brows. Surely that writing, too, was familiar? Then she noticed a Paris postmark in the corner -- that was strange. She tore open the envelope.