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. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. The entrance was barred against them; and they had the additional mortification of hearing Sheppard's loud laughter at their discomfiture. She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe.
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