Behind the Avenue was a little hill, and an iron-fenced path went over the crest of this to a stile under an elm-tree, and forked there, with one branch going back into the Avenue again. It was supposed he was drowned in crossing the river, as his body had never been found. “Well, I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. ” Her reverie broke, and she found herself still in front of the looking glass, a barrette hanging loosely from her hair. Listening at one of the doors leading to the Master Debtors' side, he heard a loud voice chanting a Bacchanalian melody, and the boisterous laughter that accompanied the song, convinced him that no suspicion was entertained in this quarter.
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