Some one had once, in his hearing, called him a prig. The pouting cherry lips were slightly parted and the very faintest of panting breaths, together with the quick rise and fall of an alluring bosom, betrayed her fear. ‘Certainly I have them with me. But, go and see who it is, love. Fas du tout. This was no night for the indulgence of dreamy musing. 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.
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