She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. He was safe, out of the beaten track, at last really comparable to the needle in the haystack. The leg and wing of a duck were disposed of by this gentleman in a twinkling; a brace of pigeons and a pound of steak followed with equal celerity; and he had just begun to make a fierce assault upon the eggs and ham. You call it a lot of nicknames—“Babs” and “Bibs” and “Viddles” and “Vee”; you whack at it playfully, and it whacks you back. Then suddenly the curtain would fall. She found presently she was out of the dock and confronted with the alternative of being bound over in one surety for the sum of forty pounds— whatever that might mean or a month’s imprisonment. He was completely, devastatingly handsome.
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