She never grew angry for anything her husband did: such anger as came to her was directed against the lazy, incompetent servant who was always snooping about in the inner temple—Spurlock's study. For a long time there had been a standing offer from the company at Copeley's to take over the McClintock plantation; and today he had decided to sell. She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. Now the doctor had the "feel" that somewhere ahead lay danger.
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