Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. Wood's," said the latter, "since I find him at his own gate. She ought to have leapt back on guard. It is quite light yet, and I want to have one more look at that angry red sun. Love!” He held her arm and abandoned it again at her quick defensive movement. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door.
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