” She was on the very verge of a vegetarian meal before she recovered her head again. This girl whom he had met by chance and befriended had done both. This niggardliness compelled him to cross and recross streets. 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. It was the girl. The afternoon had passed now into twilight. A moment before, the surface of the stream was black as ink. Annabel, I cannot believe it.
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