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. When the bell rang, she lagged behind as was her habit. They order me to get my man, and I get him. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. ” Mr. ‘Tell me what you know of Miss Charvill?’ he ordered severely.
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