“I don’t believe there is one. Before I met you I never met any one whom I felt I could love, but you have discovered depths in my own nature I had scarcely suspected. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. As they're so fond of each other's society they shan't part company even on that occasion, but shall swing from the same tree. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. " "What proof have you that I am?"—was the return bolt.
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