" Jack would not hazard a glance at Winifred; but, quitting the church, got into an adjoining meadow, and watched the party slowly ascending the road leading to Dollis Hill. She fell with a plop onto her rear end in the mud and sat dumbly like a statue, water eddying around her. “It’s Ennison, isn’t it?” he exclaimed. And now she comprehended that the man (she had never known him by any name) knew she had surprised the look and had not resented it. "Good bye!" cried Jack, as if taking leave of his mistresses, "to-morrow, at the same time. .
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