Her
English was so perfect that he had failed to detect the almost
imperceptible foreign flavour that now took definite form in his
reflections. He tried to place this accent. Was it French, or Italian,
or Spanish? Certainly it was not German. The lightness of the Latin
was evident, he decided, but it was all so faint and remote that
classification was impossible, notwithstanding his years of
association with the peoples of many countries where English is spoken
more perfectly by the upper classes, who have a language of their own,
than it is in England itself.
He took a few turns up and down the long porch, stopping finally at
the upper end. The clear, inspiring clang of a hammer on an anvil fell
suddenly upon his ears. He looked at his watch. The hour was nine,
certainly an unusual time for men to be at work in a forge. He
remembered the two men in the tap-room who were bare-armed and wore
the shapeless leather aprons of the smithy.
He had been standing there not more than half a minute peering in the
direction from whence came the rhythmic bang of the anvil,--at no
great distance, he was convinced,--when some one spoke suddenly at his
elbow. He whirled and found himself facing the gaunt landlord.
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