For the first time he seemed to wonder what it might be that she had to confess. He had buckled on his hanger, and had two brace of pistols in his belt, as well as others in this holsters. “She cannot be aware,” he continued, “that she is making herself conspicuous. ” “That’s rather a fine sort of holiday!” He made no answer for three or four seconds. And the infernal thought of that kiss returned—the softness of her lips and the cool smoothness of her cheeks. 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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