“I’m damned if I’ll believe it,” he muttered to himself savagely. Hollo rumbled in his throat. “I wonder,” he said, “how you would like to be made love to—boldly or timorously or sentimentally. 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. A young man was playing the banjo. Her dress, it has just been said, was neatness and simplicity itself. CHAPTER X. “There is some one else whom I care for!” He laughed hardly.
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