But she was not there. 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. She was given a glimpse of his soul. A woman is supposed to know when a man is in love with her. In the matter of his conscience he was primitive; and for an educated man to become primitive is to become something of a child. They had heard nothing, seen nothing. Except he was the only idiot who would stay. "What's the matter, father!" continued the new-comer, addressing Wood. She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window.
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