He pulled down a chair to her left. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. . But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. It was Sunday evening—a soft delicious evening, and, from the happy, cheerful look of the house, none would have dreamed of the dismal tragedy so lately acted within its walls. Never had her father explained. She would have been amazed if John was even aware of any one of the incidents. “I am very glad to hear you say it,” he repeated, and refrained from further inquiry. They heard voices inside but stood for a full thirty seconds looking at each other. Then he hovered undecidedly for some seconds with his hands in his pockets and his mouth puckered to a whistle before he turned to go home by the Avenue. ‘I went to see him because I thought he ought to know about you, having already been imposed upon by our friend Gosse.
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