She fled. “But—your people!” she gasped. Shari laughed hysterically and was promptly shushed by Larry from the next room. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. But his role was altered, and he was now playing the bridegroom in this remarkable drama. "I never wear false whiskers," went on O'Higgins. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination.
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