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. " "Oh! of course," rejoined Mrs. ” “Hardship and danger. ‘Espèce de bête,’ she snarled. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. CHAPTER XX. . . ” He intoned.
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