The road from Surbiton and Epsom ran under the arch, and, like a bright fungoid growth in the ditch, there was now appearing a sort of fourth estate of little redand-white rough-cast villas, with meretricious gables and very brassy windowblinds. 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. "But trifle with mo no longer. B. He's nice. There is only Gerald to see me, after all. ” Anna hesitated no longer. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. She was beauty, the key of magic, the teacher of spells, the predictor of wars, and the gate of the future. Ann Veronica was in their very forefront.
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