. ’ Fresh suspicion kindled in his breast. 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. The atmosphere seemed heavy with the odour of drugs. “All these days I have taken her for you. “I had no idea that it was so abominably late. “It really seems as if we shall have to put down marigolds altogether next year,” Aunt Molly repeated three times, “and do away with marguerites. . Yet you can look Cheveney in the face and declare that you do not know him. Nothing could have been farther from Melusine’s mind.
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