Explore "The Guilty River" by Wilkie Collins on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The breakfast hour had not yet arrived when I got home. I went into the garden to refresh my eyes -- a little weary of the solemn uniformity of color in Fordwitch Wood -- by looking at the flowers.
Reaching the terrace, in the first place, I heard below me a man's voice, speaking in tones of angry authority, and using language which expressed an intention of turning somebody out of the garden. I at once descended the steps which led to the flower-beds. The man in authority proved to be one of my gardeners; and the man threatened with instant expulsion was the oddly-dressed servant of the friend whom I had just left.