Montague Hill was taken for the millionaire once or twice, and I suppose it flattered his vanity. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. . 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. His mouth was sensuous but his eyes became frenetic. “He naturally does not wish for connexions which are—I do not wish to hurt you feelings, Anna, but I must say it—not altogether desirable. "Good night.
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