“I shall stop being queer,” he said, “if I go every day to the garden. There is Magic in there⁠—good Magic, you know, Mary. I am sure there is.”

“So am I,” said Mary.

“Even if it isn’t real Magic,” Colin said, “we can pretend it is. Something is there⁠— something !”

“It’s Magic,” said Mary, “but not black. It’s as white as snow.”