Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand. “Who are you?” She asked innocently. ‘Oh no, you don’t,’ said Gerald in a low tone. ” She said, embarrassed. She had never even brought a friend home in her time at the Becks, let alone been asked on dates.
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