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. Grasping one of chairs about the little table, he drew it forward and sat astride it, in a fashion as insolent as it was unexpected. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him. " "Off!" she exclaimed, breaking from his embrace with a scream. When John’s parents weren’t home, they made love in his bedroom. She was too late.
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