“I suppose I ought to congratulate you,” he said. “Why not?” “Because you are mine. He temporized, and the girl raised her eyes once more to his. Though there is something to be said for your idea of a secret convent, at least as a hiding place. " The answer to this request was a "smack" of a very different description, bestowed upon Sheppard's outstretched face by the little damsel, as she ran out of the room. 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.
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