‘Yes, miss. “Life’s so queer,” she said, kneeling and looking into the flames. It was 1582. “Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice. 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. To be frank with you, I have an affront to requite, which can be settled at the same time, and in the same way with your affair. The others hurried to the window.
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