This lover of yours—” “He doesn’t know!” cried Ann Veronica. ’ ‘Of course she could not have known to whom they belonged. " Quilt, however, seemed unwilling to speak. He was a good foster dad that had never so much as leered at her, not even once. Perhaps there were experiences she would never confide to any man. 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. Someone, it appeared, was trying to profit from that fact.
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