“Delusion!” “You can call it what you like,” she said. All my plans have succeeded. They will be safe. 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. "You are arrested for high treason," rejoined Wild, presenting a pistol at his head, while he drew forth a parchment,—"here is my warrant. A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. “Now,” he said, “no one can blunder in upon us. Her head felt absurdly like one of those noddling manikins in the Hong-Kong curio-shops. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper.
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