On the left lay the heights of Hampstead, studded with villas, while farther off a hazy cloud marked the position of the metropolis. His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane. ‘But a spy I am not. It was Blueskin. No great lover of state or state costume at any time, he was generally, towards the close of an evening, completely in dishabille, and in this condition he now presented himself to his subjects.
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