Ennison, who had been standing with his back to the window, came suddenly a little further into the room. ‘Kimble, you shouldn’t be here. It seemed to them they could never have been really alive before, but only dimly anticipating existence. I don’t mind it. On the next morning—Sunday—the day on which he expected his mother's funeral to take place, he set out along the Harrow Road. . For it was but logical that she would seek a divorce on the ground that she had unknowingly married a fugitive from justice. 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. She could hear him from the lower floor as he locked the gates and drew up the wooden part of the bridge.
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