You are afraid—that here in London—I shall not be a success. I want to be whatever I can to you. My wife doesn’t understand, doesn’t understand now. 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. “Have to take your turn,” he remarked laconically. " Awed by Jonathan's manner, Mrs. What with these converging roofs that shut out all but a hand's breadth of the sky, sunshine was rare at this point. Perhaps she was. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered.
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