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. And no ill-chances. Her sister’s words were true. I know who hits hardest. As he balanced the photograph, a humorous twinkle came into his eyes. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. ’ Chapter Three Captain Hilary Roding listened with only half an ear to the long-winded report being given by Sergeant Trodger, his idle gaze wandering over the congested traffic of Piccadilly and the many pedestrians weaving a hazardous path through it.
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