In all his life he had never realized a dream; but the thought had never before hurt him. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly. In each corner stood a stout square post reaching to the ceiling. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. ”) Well, they might say that, but he knew very well that before long they would regret it. She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road.
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