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Updated: May 8, 2025
Gilbert Fenton left the homely little post-office and turned into the lane leading to Golder's-green a way which may have been pleasant enough in summer, but had no especial charm at this time.
"There is an old house about a mile from here," he said to the girl; "a house belonging to a farm, in the lane yonder that turns off by the Blue Boar. Have you any notion to whom it belongs, or who lives there?" "An old house in that lane across the way?" the girl said, reflecting. "That's Golder's lane, and leads to Golder's-green.
"Are they living there still?" "I can't tell you that. I used to see them at church now and then in the summer-time; but I haven't seen them lately. There's a church at Golder's-green almost as near, and they may have been there." "Will you tell me what they were like?" Gilbert asked eagerly. His heart was beating loud and fast, making a painful tumult in his breast.
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