But he's got a tongue like a sharp blade, Bartle has--it never touches anything but it cuts.

Here's the turning, sir.

I must bid you good-morning, as you're going to the rectory." "Good-bye, Adam, good-bye." Arthur gave his horse to the groom at the rectory gate, and walked along the gravel towards the door which opened on the garden.

He knew that the rector always breakfasted in his study, and the study lay on the left hand of this door, opposite the dining-room.

It was a small low room, belonging to the old part of the house--dark with the sombre covers of the books that lined the walls; yet it looked very cheery this morning as Arthur reached the open window.