She had a horrible glimpse of the once nice little old lady being also borne stationward, still faintly battling and very muddy—one lock of grayish hair straggling over her neck, her face scared, white, but triumphant. " Not many days after this event, on a bright October morning, the bells rang a merry peal from the old gray tower of Willesden church. The echoes of his hard, unpleasant laugh reached Anna on her way upstairs. "Let me see," replied Wood; "exactly twelve years ago last November. Upon leaning back, he commented, “You look so sad. ” “Your husband,” he answered bluntly.
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