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
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