Trodger was lying in wait at the bottom of the narrow stairs. 4. “I got your note just in time,” he remarked. She read on and on, now thrilled by the swiftly moving drama, now enraptured by the tender passages of love. Happened to be at the Chariot, you know, with Trodger, and it’s review day. 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. From then until four in the afternoon there was nothing to do—the whole island went to sleep. Emile looked at her, then down, and clearly caught the bright gleam on the floor.
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