"An idea has just occurred to me," said Gay, "which Jack's narrative has suggested. “I suppose things have changed?” she said. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. “When we see you going through disobedience to the devil! Come, Molly, she must go her own way. In all these weeks she had not once knelt to pray. The young man looked at her.
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