. ’ Footsteps sounded just outside, and Captain Roding walked in. “I am glad,” she told herself, “I came. “Mike, what’s going on?” She sat up, groggily rubbing her eyes. In her usual style, she interviewed him for his life and was pleased that he liked nothing more than to talk about himself. C below. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service.
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