. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. 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. Five hours later she tiptoed down the hall and paused at the threshold of what they now called his study. “Wild horses—not if they have all the mounted police in London—shan’t keep me out. ’ Gerald’s eyes never left the girl. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. There'll be busy days and idle.
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