"Close the wicket, Austin," vociferated Ireton, in an authoritative tone. I’ve wanted you—always. 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. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. Supposing he too wanted love and his arms were as empty as hers? Some living thing that depended upon her. . ” He recognized the force, almost the passion, which trembled in her tone, and he at once abandoned the subject.
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