It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. " "She? My God, the pity of it! She knows nothing of life. “Feel better. Before he forced an entrance, Jack tried it, and, to his great surprise and delight, found it unfastened. Nay, for aught I know, some of them may even now have got scent of me. Lucy looked at her with a small measure of pity. 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.
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