Spurlock was by nature orderly, despite his literary activities. 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. This structure at once satisfied him as to where he stood. He knew it to be St. ’ The full story—or as much as Gerald knew—of Valade’s machinations shocked the old lady so much that she was obliged to recruit her strength with a refill from the Madeira decanter. Then the lady smiled and her radiance, even in the darkness, warmed Gerald unexpectedly.
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