CHAPTER XXVIII. "I used to cry myself to sleep, Hoddy, I was so forlorn and lonely. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. It was your sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn’t it?” Anna nodded. ” “I am staying,” she answered coolly, “at a small boarding-house near Russell Square.
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