They had changed identities absolutely. The knots and broken pale that made the garden-fence scalable, and gave access to the fields behind, were still to be traced. See? Nothing really. ’ ‘I have found Mary Remenham’s daughter,’ he repeated. I should think, Anna, that your own sense—er—of propriety would enable you to see this. After an affectionate parting with Winifred, Thames was conducted by the carpenter to his sleeping apartment—a comfortable cosy chamber; such a one, in short, as can only be met with in the country, with its dimity-curtained bed, its sheets fragrant of lavender, its clean white furniture, and an atmosphere breathing of freshness.
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