“Idiotic, isn’t it?” “Absolutely,” she agreed coldly. She began to draw on her gloves thoughtfully. Ireton, was appointed to the office, stood with a hammer in one hand, and a punch in the other, near the great stone block, ready to fulfil his duty. Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. The solemn strokes were immediately answered by a multitude of chimes, sounding across the Thames, amongst which the deep note of Saint Paul's was plainly distinguishable. "Spring!—I never knew any.
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