She covered herself with her arms. 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. How did you get your luggage out of the house? Wasn’t it—wasn’t it rather in some respects—rather a lark? It’s one of my regrets for my lost youth. Her mother had prepared her for everything. “Don’t think so,” Drummond answered. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute.
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