Mr. Satterthwaite looked at him uncomprehendingly for a minute or two. Then he began suddenly to quiver all over like an aspen leaf.
« What is this place? » he whispered. « What is this place? »
« I told you earlier to-day. It is my lane. »
« A Lovers Lane, » murmured Mr. Satterthwaite. « And people pass along it. »
« Most people, sooner or later. »
« And at the end of it what do they find? »
Mr. Quin smiled. His voice was very gentle. He pointed at the ruined cottage above them.
« The house of their dreams–or a rubbish heap–who shall say? »
The Mysterious Mr Quin, by Agatha Christie