SERENA PAGE’S COUNTRY PLACE WAS A HOUSE OF MIRTH, BUT MERRIMENT AND TRAGEDY ARE OFTEN CLOSE TOGETHER A gay world, that summer morning! The sprinkler on the lawn flung a rainbow mist into the air, and left tiny diamonds shining on the grass blades. Everything was astir—the leaves rustling on the trees, gay flowers swaying on their stalks. Curtains fluttered at the open windows, and through the cool, bright house voices came floating, light as butterflies. Serena Page had arisen.…
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