She shattered the edifice he was building up of himself as a devoted lover, waiting only his chance to win her from a hopeless and consuming passion. ‘You will not guess again?’ ‘No, no, I am quite out of ideas. Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen. “Difficulties indeed. But between us, we'll have him writing books some day. He seemed to know a great deal about life. " "Who cares if we do?" retorted Sheppard, with a look of defiance.
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