“Beautiful these autumn flowers are,” said Ann Veronica, in a wide, uncomfortable pause. Her clock had stopped—stopped at the very hour on which she had quitted the Mint! She had not the heart to wind it up again. I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. Taking his way along East Smithfield, mounting Little Tower-hill, and threading the Minories and Hounsditch, he arrived without accident or molestation, at Moorfields. Had Gosse taken it as he escaped? What could she do? Gosse now knew that she was the daughter of Mary Remenham. It still failed in something.
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