Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. In the grate were some charred fragments of a marriage certificate. " "As in a dream. She would always be waiting upon this boy, he mused. He returned her to her door at a decent hour, well before 10:00. Do I, Bess, eh?" "Nobody whatever, love," replied Edgeworth Bess; "nobody but me, dear. The man muttered something inaudible, and gathered up the reins. A neat tale, giving little away.
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