It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it. “You have killed me. I hope you won’t think less of me, you’ve treated me so well. Life! Life and love! It makes me want to be always young, always strong, always devoting my life—and dying splendidly. Quite!” He sat in the arm-chair and took tea, and consumed several of the extra cakes which she had sent out for and talked to her and expressed himself, looking very earnestly at her with his deep-set eyes, and carefully avoiding any crumbs on his mustache the while. As they passed beneath the thick trees that shade the road to Dollis Hill, the gloom was almost impenetrable.
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