For an instant, Gerald wished the rest of the world away that he might go to her and administer appropriate comfort. The boy’s besotted. “Look at our affair,” he went on, looking up at her. " "You're not deceiving me!" said Thames, doubtfully. This done, he unloosed the pulley, and the ponderous machine, which resembled a trough, slowly descended upon the prisoner's breast. 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. And thus it was that she came upon a book of Stevenson's verse—her first adventure into poetry. And not only so, but that it was after all, a more systematic and particular method of examining just the same questions that underlay the discussions of the Fabian Society, the talk of the West Central Arts Club, the chatter of the studios and the deep, the bottomless discussions of the simple-life homes.
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