"Ja," answered Van; "at a minut's nodish. Sir John stood upon the threshold. I asked you to go. I can’t love you. “He writes very well,” said Ann Veronica. ” She looked at him with uplifted eyebrows—a look of whimsical incredulity. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon.
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