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Then with a leap of her breath, half-sigh, half-exultation, the knowledge of what had happened to her crystallised into clear significance. In one swift, overwhelming moment of illumination she realised that the frail blossom of love which had been tentatively budding in the garden of her heart was dead withered, starved out of existence ere it had quite believed in its own reality.
What did I care whether he called himself valet, or nurse, or attendant? To his credit, be it said that there was no tone of half-exultation, almost pardonable after my manner of annoyance, as he went on. His heavy, spatulate finger-tips were stripping the little twig bare of its leaves. As he continued, I fixed my lowered eyes on that bit of alder.
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