These things did not harmonize with his conception of the forthcoming (if unavoidable) interview. 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. Wood trembled. ‘His wife? Pah!’ ‘You’re saying she is not his wife?’ ‘I am saying nothing. Charity for the ragtag and the bobtail of the Seven Seas, and none for his own flesh and blood. He was disappointed when Intermission arrived. ” They went on for a time without another word.
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