” “I don’t care how we meet,” she said. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. There was now no honest way of warning Taber that the net had been drawn. I married—I married a woman whom I still think one of the most beautiful persons in the world. Skirting the noble gardens of Montague House, (now, we need scarcely say, the British Museum,) the party speedily reached Great Russell Street,—a quarter described by Strype, in his edition of old Stow's famous Survey, "as being graced with the best buildings in all Bloomsbury, and the best inhabited by the nobility and gentry, especially the north side, as having gardens behind the houses, and the prospect of the pleasant fields up to Hampstead and Highgate; insomuch that this place, by physicians, is esteemed the most healthful of any in London. The same teardrop bust, the same long waist, the same thick legs. ’ ‘That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. There was the same airy grace of movement, the same deep brown hair and alabaster skin.
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