"Well?" he whispered. The servants had left the room. " Broken pipes littered the floor, if that can be said to be littered, which, in the first instance, was a mass of squalor and filth. But, go and see who it is, love. She came in now with an air of reserved solicitude. She wanted to cry out upon herself for the uttermost fool in existence. Everything goes—the copra for oil, the fibre of the husk for rope, and the shell for carbon. “But,” he said, “you do not blame me altogether?” She rose to her feet. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn.
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