“My wife. "How go you like your quarters, sauce-box?" asked Sharples, in a jeering tone. “Will you tell Sydney that I will see him in the morning,” he said. No, this was imbecile. Her heartbeat raced, her limbs turned to water, and it was only by a miracle and the strength of the arms that held her that she remained standing on her feet. I’m anxious, joyfully anxious, like a man when he has found a treasure. This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest. 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. Oddly, he was seldom angry with her as Gianfrancesco would have been.
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