” “It is,” Annabel answered shortly. She was at the end of girlhood and on the eve of a woman’s crowning experience. 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. It was past seven when she got back to her hotel. Glancing idly up at her own window as they had swung round the corner she had seen a strange thing. She sat perfectly still, however. Got the day off.
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