“It was poison—why not?” she answered. The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. Opening the door he then stepped into a dark narrow passage leading, as he was well aware, to the chapel. 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. " Mrs. “Please have a seat. “Have you not heard?” she said.
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