“What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia. " "You know best," replied Jonathan, sneeringly; "but if I were in your place I would take the chance of a future and uncertain risk to avoid a present and certain peril. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. " He then closed the lantern, mounted without much difficulty upon the roof, and proceeded cautiously along the tiles. There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. Or else—Else it will be impossible that I can be his friend. .
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