But she must not laugh. A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet. ’ ‘Indeed? Interesting. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. Gerald’s judgement was borne out a moment later. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. The crowner's 'quest sat on her yesterday—and if she hadn't been proved out of her mind, she would have been buried at four lane-ends. The room in which this interview took place had a sordid and miserable look.
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