Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. “John,” she said, “I am afraid that I am going to make you unhappy. ‘Fiddle, Gerald. Just one thing more. ‘Could she have been a spy, after all?’ ‘Oh, she’s not a spy,’ Gerald answered, almost absently. ” “I still——” Anna stopped short. ‘Well, only look what’s come of it. “You would have been treated differently in the Old World, the one where I came from. “What have you done to yourself?” he muttered. You seem altogether altered, too. “Wild horses—not if they have all the mounted police in London—shan’t keep me out.
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