\" \"Okay. I almost wish we hadn't come. 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. She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night. There was a gentle rustling of skirts. "He who stands on the verge of the grave, as I do, should never be unprepared. It had been discussed in silence. It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity.
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