‘You have something more to tell me?’ Jack grinned. A little table covered with a damask cloth was dragged out. A dull light shone through the open window blinds and softened the room with parchment yellowness. She had eaten them. 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. Sheppard, and neither deserve nor desire your thanks. Within ten minutes he had read much more than had greeted his eye.
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