. She may afford us some necessary information. ‘Yes, miss. . ’ ‘That’s just it,’ said Joan Ibstock shamefacedly. His shirt also was unbuttoned, and disclosed a neck like that of an ox, and a chest which might have served as a model for a Hercules. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. Nor did he content himself with declaring his guiltlessness of the crime imputed to him, but began in his turn to menace his captor and accuser, loading the latter with the bitterest upbraidings. The tired woman looked up in inquiring silence at Ann Veronica’s diffident entry.
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