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” He said. Except he was the only idiot who would stay. "Do they treat you ill?" asked her son. He was consumed with desire. But the morning brought courage again, and those first intimations of horror vanished completely from her mind. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. 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. Saviour's Church. .
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