All the turnkeys rose to salute the thief-taker, whose habitually-sullen countenance looked gloomier than usual. Disappointment flickered in Gerald’s chest, and he did not hesitate to speak his mind, unable to help a reproachful note. ‘Sleeping like a baby, he is. “What makes you ask such a question, Vee?” she said. “Would they make her Queen?” She asked innocently. “I don’t see why not,” he answered. I never forgive an injury. Let’s go. . “You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest. 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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