He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. And he had good reason before long to congratulate himself on his forbearance. ‘If you had told him that I would rather die than see him, he would not have come. He looked up to see an ancient coach making its ponderous way down the street. She saw his face change, how he regretted. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him. Afterward her brother Roddy, also strange in velveteen, feeling rather than knowing of this relationship, punched this Adonis’s head. Brendon looked across the room at her thoughtfully.
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