Jack could hardly be accounted good-looking: Thames, on the contrary, was one of the handsomest boys possible. White assured her. The knowledge breathed into her heart a satisfying warmth. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. A shiver slid down inside her. There was first the Avenue, which ran in a consciously elegant curve from the railway station into an undeveloped wilderness of agriculture, with big, yellow brick villas on either side, and then there was the pavement, the little clump of shops about the postoffice, and under the railway arch was a congestion of workmen’s dwellings. "A capital instrument for my purpose," thought Jack, shouldering it, "and worth all the trouble I have had in procuring it.
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