” He turned upon her almost fiercely. “It is part of the irony of life,” he said. This is your choice. One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear. She approached this field with her usual liveliness of apprehension. “You killed them, didn’t you?” He said. “I don’t know, John. I have a weapon—a knife—and if you attempt to open the door, will plunge it to my heart. ‘I take it that you like this great-niece of mine?’ ‘One cannot help but do so. . “That was a moment of madness,” she said.
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