He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. Besides, revenge is sweetened by delay; and I indulge too freely in the passion to rob it of any of its zest. “It is concerning—our future relations,” Sir John pronounced ponderously. He had looked at it before without comprehension. They were in many respects so right; she clung to that, and shirked more and more the paradoxical conviction that they were also somehow, and even in direct relation to that rightness, absurd. I believed that she was my wife, or she would have been safe from me. He grabbed her hair viciously and whispered loudly into her tear-streaked face.
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