“Mr. A smile flickered upon her lips as she glanced towards Brendon, who was very serious indeed. 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. With the usual precautions, Austin then departed. Sheppard, who had again looked round towards her son, beheld a hand glance along the side of the woollendraper. He knew what he knew. ’ ‘Me, miss?’ uttered Mrs Ibstock doubtfully.
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