You—It’s jolly of you to confide in me. It was open. There is turmoil, shouts, cries, jostlings, milling congestions that suddenly break and flow in opposite directions. At the back of the house, on a bank, rose an old-fashioned terrace-garden, full of apple-trees and other fruittrees in blossom, and lively with the delicious verdure of early spring. And then you can go home and think things over before we talk again. Sometimes we had the Illustrated London News and Tit-Bits. ” His lips tightened, and he frowned with solemn resolution. They had cried a little, both.
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