On the left lay the heights of Hampstead, studded with villas, while farther off a hazy cloud marked the position of the metropolis. Books! She knew now what had saved her—her mother's hand, reaching down from heaven, had set the giver's flaming eyes upon the covers of these books. Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. One doesn’t want to lose a grain. Since the discovery of them, she had been madly eager to read these typewritten tales. She had always had a wonderful ear for phrasing, even back in the days of the viol. Sir John looked about him, and somehow the laugh died away.
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