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He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. The coach was slowing down, and he realised that they had arrived in Golden Square. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. She could hear the raucous laughter and bad music below. “A nice time of anxiety you’ve given me, young lady,” he said, as he entered the room. She heard the ocean in the distance, waves crashing on the beach, high tide. " Thames was about to follow, when he felt a gentle grasp upon his arm. The attempt was unsuccessful. ” He looked at her intensely, his dark eyes deepened with sleeplessness. .

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