He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. ’ ‘I don’t know,’ confessed Gerald. But she was not sure just how to reach it. Urging his steed along Oxford Road,— as that great approach to the metropolis was then termed,—he soon passed Marylebone Lane, beyond which, with the exception of a few scattered houses, the country was completely open on the right, and laid out in pleasant fields and gardens; nor did he draw in the rein until he arrived at Tyburn-gate, where, before he turned off upon the Edgeware Road, he halted for a moment, to glance at the place of execution. She almost laughed, but repressed her smile lest it seem cruel. Where is Father Spencer? I must have absolution. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. ’ She grimaced.
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