’ ‘Yes, it’s all my fault,’ he agreed soothingly, ‘and you may rail at me presently as much as you please. “Surely!” he remarked, with an expression of worried appeal. I mean Miss Charvill no harm. . ” She looked at him quizzically and shrugged. “Why do you hate me again, my love?” He seemed to brighten, feeding upon the intensity of her emotion. \" She whispered back. You have all the instinctive dexterity of parasites. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service.
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