In any place her beauty would have been an uncommon thing. The road which wound by Westbourne Green, gave him a full view of the hill of Hampstead with its church, its crest of houses, and its villas peeping from out the trees. “Last time I saw you,” he reminded her, “you spoke, did you not, of obtaining some employment in London. Let us proceed with our tale. ‘Either you tell me why you want the wretched animal, or it stays here. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them.
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