Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. "Here, Tom," he added, calling to a shop-boy, "run and fetch a constable. When he begins to notice things, I want you to trap his interest, to amuse him, keep his thoughts from reverting to his misfortunes. “There is some one else whom I care for!” He laughed hardly. Suddenly he stopped short. Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks.
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