She had found a couple of articles about him over the years, blurbs about the opening of a theater that mentioned him. Once a thriving town before the Pestilence, most of the buildings and the piers had been destroyed or burned. Briefly explained, she was as the child who discards the rag baby for the living one. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. Earles recovered his spirits. He liked to draw her in, and she did her best to talk. After feasting his eye upon this superb panorama, he was about to return, when he ascertained from a farmer that his nearest road to Willesden would be down a lane a little further on, to the right. “But that’s quite different,” replied Anna. They were sure to catch up with her.
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