” He too rose. “I think that I shall be the most unpopular man in London. At this juncture, a cry was raised by a servant from below, that the robbers were flying through the garden. 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 should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. Rollo began to cavort. “I love you, Ann Veronica. The bliss had lasted one hundred and forty years, far more than an entire mortal lifetime. Voilà tout.
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