Manning,” she said, “I warned you not to idealize me. The moment he was out in the hall, Ruth sat up hugging and rocking her body in delight. And the woollen-draper departed. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. 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.
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