"I would treat him as you treated his father, Sir Rowland. It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal. He could not promise that she would ever appear again in that house. Listening on the dimlit landing, he saw Roding’s face muscles tighten. Leonardo was to me nothing at all. The city presented a terrible picture of devastation. There was a photo of her that looked exactly like you. When Jack entered the cell, she was talking to herself in the muttering unconnected way peculiar to her distracted condition; but, after her eye had rested on him some time, the fixed expression of her features relaxed, and a smile crossed them. There was one verse that haunted and mocked her. 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.
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