"You knew better than to bring her here under the circumstances. God send the fellow did turn out to be a spy! Beckoning Roding on, Gerald crept down the corridor towards the source of the swishing he had heard. ” Annabel moistened her dry lips with a handkerchief steeped in eau de Cologne. 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. On the way home he was still thoughtful. You don’t want to look like Bozo. I shall know what to say to him when he comes.
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