“Vee,” she said, “come home. And she defies me. I must have something in hand. Away up on the hillside was the little country railway station. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. We'll have him yet. But if that can possibly be done I want it to be done. He would never be able to compose upon it, but it would serve to produce the finished work. He will tell you confidentially that he simply hates the place. Gravely he placed them in his aunt's hand. Gosse had hidden himself successfully then. Do you hear?" "I do, Sir," replied Austin respectfully. But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. ” She sat motionless, with her hand tightening over the edge of the table, and he, too, said no more.
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