"Mr. My people don’t know what to do. It took all my self control not to let my hands wander. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. Madame Valade was looking heartily bored, he noted, as his searching eyes found out the couple. May I know your name?’ The lady eyed him. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. 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. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley.
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