The entrance of the house 85 was grand, and upon entering she was immediately greeted by John’s mother, a tall, thin woman quite a few years older than Cathy Beck. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. To return was impossible,—to raise himself certain destruction. . Diane spoke first. They knew they were all Bogey in disguise. He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude even to himself. There’s no family uniting instinct, anyhow; it’s habit and sentiment and material convenience hold families together after adolescence. “Dinner is served, m’m,” said the efficient parlor-maid in the archway, and the worst was over. Stanley determined to improve the occasion.
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