Wood made no reply; but, hastily kissing his weeping daughter, and bidding her be of good cheer, hurried off. Ann Veronica blushed. "Will that do?" he added, returning it. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. ” He was suddenly resentful. Prudence. The booming voice and the energetic movements spoke plainly of hurry. Her white shirt was ridiculously utilitarian, but fitted in all the right places, he smirked.
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