“Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. Or, if this goodlooking young fellow will only say the word, I'll go with him. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. She softened her tone and scrambled for the right words. Loved his memory still, for all he knew. ’ ‘So I see. “Do you like my dress?” “Yes, the dress is beautiful, but you are much more beautiful than any dress. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. She sat with him in the courtyard after serving him 20 spiced wine. It surprises you. Clergymen were human. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally. Her momentary instinct was to run to him and be comforted, like the old times.
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