\" He panted, wiping sweat off of his brow with a towel. "Bury her in Willesden churchyard, as she requested, on Sunday," said Jack. "No offence," returned Jonathan. Lucy sat beside him. “She has lost something,” he declared, “something which brought the men in crowds around the stage at the ‘Ambassador’s. 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. That is how I learned that there were such things as novels.
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