All this Woman-who-Diddery —no damn good. Lucy looked at her with a small measure of pity. Hidden menace; a prescience of something dreadful about to happen. Then, after Capes had been through her work and had gone on, it came to her that the fabric of this life of hers was doomed to almost immediate collapse; that in a little while these studies would cease, and perhaps she would never set eyes on him again. Entranced, he stared at the name. She took hand cannon and began to arm it. 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. One can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object.