He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. “Oh, you can act!” she cried. Sir John, by instinct and training, was an unimaginative person. ‘Idiot!’ ‘Enough, now! Softly, you little termagant,’ he ordered, seizing her wrists to hold her off. “We pretend bodies are ugly. "I have sworn to see him hanged," he said, "and nothing shall keep me away— nothing, by——. I sent my check for ten thousand; and it has cost me six thousand to find you. Why did he take me?’ Martha’s damp eyes were puzzled. ” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne. ‘One of they Frenchies, that’s what I say—if it ain’t a ghost.
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