It creaked slightly. Kneebone," returned Shotbolt. Suddenly, she heard the crunch of new feet on the gravel. "And there you're right, you may dipind, marm," observed Terence. He had found her in a communicative mood, and he used the accumulated skill of years in turning that to account. A hush descended across the audience as instruments tuned, creating small ladders of fifths that collapsed abruptly, snatches of solos that disappeared and reappeared like gags in a house of mirrors. 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. Well, come back in half an hour.
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