But the recollection of the warm pliant body in his arms …! "I am a thief!" he whispered. Smith obeyed. Anna, who had sung the first verse of her song, looked around the house, a little surprised at the absence of the applause which had never yet failed her. The crowning aspect of the incident, for her mind, was the discovery that he and her indiscretion with him no longer mattered very much. Below her stretched a valley of rich meadowland, of yellow cornfields, and beyond moorland hillside glorious with purple heather and golden gorse. He’s been 274 lookin’ a little down lately.
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