He was about to cut the sergeant short, when his eye fell on a gentleman walking along Piccadilly, his manner uncertain, his eyes shifting as if he sought something out. I had gone further than I meant to—with some Englishmen. He could not contain his satisfaction, but chuckled, and rubbed his hands with delight. Anna raised her eyebrows at the sight of him. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. " "You may spare me your compassion, friend," observed Thames; "I am falsely detained. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you.
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