Great gusts of cold wind came in at the windows at intervals, a loose board somewhere in the house rattled, the trees outside murmured heavily.
"There won't be a frost," Barnabas thought, his mind going apace on its old routine in spite of its turmoil.

Then he thought with the force of an oath that he did not care if there was a frost.

All the trees this spring had blossomed only for him and Charlotte; now there was no longer any use in that; let the blossoms blast and fall!.