He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. Ruth could tell the doctor; she could bare many of her innermost thoughts to that kindly man; but there was an inexplicable reserve before this young man whom she still endued with the melancholy charm of Sydney Carton. Occasionally the canvas snapped as the wind veered slightly. She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern. \" He mumbled, his eyes on her breasts.
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