Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. “What do you think of them?” Anna extended her critical survey and shrugged her shoulders. If it was not an actual personal lover, it still might be the lover not yet incarnate, not yet perhaps suspected. Wood, delighted at the idea. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life. E. "A little. ” Anna laughed, and went back to her easy chair. Still —there you are!” He paused. Meanwhile, Mr. Spurlock had better stick to the bungalow. There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women.
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