Taking a firm grasp of his pistol, Gerald eased back, let go the handle of the door, and at the same instant, swung his booted foot. ‘Quick, Gérard. “How have you been lately, Lucy? You’ve been such a stranger. ‘You would read my mind?’ Gerald was pretty certain he already had, but he did not say so. 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. ” He did not appear to require any answer to his question.
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