” “Oh, Drummond’s dinner!” she repeated. No more did she offer her forehead for the good-night kiss. 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. A discreet husband would leave the dispensation of his bounty, where women are concerned, to his wife. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified.
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