His chest heaved violently, and big tears coursed rapidly down his cheeks. 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. He squinted and a disgusted look came over him. “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately.
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