“She’s my wife,” the man muttered. A young man was playing the banjo. "Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. . “I do. Sheppard, hastily; "is that the name?" "Ay, ay, now I look again it is Trenchard. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon.
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