There's a wistful sort of charm to this story- told in the first person -- of a youthful rebel against the strictures of society. Child of a Non-Conformist minister, an austere, cold man, and a beautiful, gently born mother, last of a family going to seed, Ruan even at seven, was sharply aware of some of the contradictions in her life. It was a strange childhood, given color and flavor by her own imagination, and by the holiday visits to the Days, where David, four years her senior but the perfect playmate, entered her life. Always Ruan lived in the moment, refusing to face the challenge of the future, while her lovely, empty headed sister, Sylvia, plotted for a glamorous, cushioned life. Come tragedy or change, Ruan always knew David was there, and when the turn of fate altered the pattern of both their lives, David knew it, too. There's an odd sense of timelessness, of lack of background, but the presumption is that the time is England before World War I, with an overhang of Victorianism in the portrait of a provincial English town. A better book than its predecessor, My Is Bright (1949).