There was a gentle rustling of skirts. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. "Red apples and snow!" he repeated. She felt the thrill race through her body. ” She seated herself in a loose and easy attitude and surveyed the backs of the Avenue houses; then her eyes wandered to where the new red-and-white villas peeped among the trees. " CHAPTER XXV. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. He not only did this, but supplied him with an ointment which allayed the swelling of his limbs, and crowned all by furnishing him with a jug of excellent ale. But we have got to talk upon indifferent themes until we have done with this blond young gentleman from Bavaria. .
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