"Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. “You must send for the police at once, you know. ‘Where the devil have you been?’ ‘Consorting with a nun in the gardens. You are French?" "No. I wanted the magic of love. ” When the next holidays came Ann Veronica’s mother was ill, and Gwen was in the sick-room when Ann Veronica returned home. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn.
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