They had turned into the street, on the opposite side of which were the flats where Anna lived. She gazed steadily out of the window at that arc of glittering lights. He could not make good his hold. Even our coarseness. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. When they reached her rooms she stepped lightly out upon the pavement. God knows how you did it. For her mother to betray her seemed inevitable, but the betrayal seemed worse than her fate. It's a long time since we met, eight years and more. She would flee to the wild fastnesses, the places where there were no overarching systems of any use, where she could blend with the unstable populace and kill in relative peace.
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