” He bent and kissed her hair and paused, and then forced his attention back to the map. "I yield to fate. A thousand eager assistants pressed behind him. ” His voice assumed an easy detached tone. “He and I don’t seem to get on at all with our fellow-guests, as Mrs. " "I will be there," answered Trenchard, gloomily. Presently, two carriages dashed down the hill, and drew up before it. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance.
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