Parbleu, but she was a fool. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. John moved closer to her, getting up from his roost by one bench, he joined her at the bench where she sat. His throat filled; he wanted to weep. Here he was preparing to leap over the hedge into the fields on the left, when he was intercepted by two horsemen, who, hearing the shouts, rode up and struck at him with the butt-ends of their heavy riding-whips. ‘But I have been perfectly honest about that.
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