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. I do want them. "Tell me the truth, I implore you," cried Thames. He would condemn her to the vengeance of the mob all for refusing to marry him. The thing rankled in her mind night and day. As the movie reached its predictable apex, she clutched his right knee in a careful imitation of fear. She sensed he might try and wane on her doorstep.
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