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E. So, let's think no more about it. With the last glimmer of decency he had sent the daughter to his sister. She was to see Capes to-morrow, but now, in this state of misery she had achieved, she felt assured he would turn his back upon her, take no notice of her at all. Urging his steed along Oxford Road,— as that great approach to the metropolis was then termed,—he soon passed Marylebone Lane, beyond which, with the exception of a few scattered houses, the country was completely open on the right, and laid out in pleasant fields and gardens; nor did he draw in the rein until he arrived at Tyburn-gate, where, before he turned off upon the Edgeware Road, he halted for a moment, to glance at the place of execution. "Do you know what you make me think of?" "What?" "As if you had stepped out of some old family album. " "Go, Mr. Her naked body was an abomination of caked filth and sagging tubes for breasts. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. He recognised Anna, and at once addressed her. Anna was afterwards astonished at her own selfpossession. “Is it your maid?” he asked. Still, one never could tell.
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