Explore "Helen Vardon's Confession" by R. Austin Freeman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
THE silence that had fallen between me and my companion remained unbroken (with one exception, when he briefly drew my attention to the old stone name-tablet, inscribed "Wardour Streete 1686") until we came opposite a church, standing back from the road, and distinguished by a sort of tumour -- containing a clock -- on its spire. Here Mr. Davenant halted, and looking up at the tower, remarked:
"A quaint-looking church, this; odd and ugly, but yet not without a certain character and picturesqueness. Quite an aristocratic church, too, for it is the burial place of a king."