He smiled complacently. “I must live, you know. Anna was sitting before the fire a little distance from him—Ennison himself remained standing. 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. ‘Cousin? But I am a fool. "Not my king's," returned Wood. One cannot trust any man at all. "I understand," she said. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. Sorry. I guess. The unexpected twist—his disclosure to McClintock—had given Spurlock but temporary relief.
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