Gerald doubted there would be many eager suitors, even assuming the comtesse was keen to marry off her daughter to a foreign protestant. 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. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words. “Want to see Mr. As he balanced the photograph, a humorous twinkle came into his eyes. ‘You don’t mind if I sit down?’ She considered him a moment, her head a little on one side. Mind, when we were all growed up, it were different.
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