The latter took from his pocket a small note-book and pencil. ‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted. It was Martin, she could hear his heart beat. It was her past now, not Annabel’s. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. “Close your eyes. It ought never to have begun. He, next, tried to clamber up the flying buttresses and soffits of the pier, in the hope of reaching some of the windows and other apertures with which, as a man-of-war is studded with port-holes, the sides of the bridge were pierced.
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