She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. His attraction for her was now written plainly on his freckled face, revealed by the many drinks he had imbibed. ” He beamed upon her. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. God had never answered any of her prayers. For a few days she was fascinated by the place, exploring the moldy rooms, the weird treasures hiding in forgotten trousseaus. ” “Such independence,” he answered quickly, “is a vice. “I should kill you. .
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