‘I dropped the lantern,’ Jack’s muffled voice told her. 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. I’ve just seen him. ‘That’s my pet name. ‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald.
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