Mrs. Shall we say at half-past seven?” She rose from her chair. She closed her eyes, discerning the divinations he had been up to during her violin concert. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. Sheppard. The aspect of the place, so far as he could discern through the gloom, was strange to him; but chancing to raise his eyes above the level of the surrounding habitations, he beheld, relieved against the sombre sky, the tall steeple of Saint Giles's church, the precursor of the present structure, which was not erected till some fifteen years later. He hung round those broad waters from noon until three and realized that he had embarked upon a wild-goose chase. Melusine glanced at the walls as she sped down the four flights of stairs, and noted with relief that some paintings remained. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. “Don’t be childish, Annabel.
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