You will have a bungalow to yourself," continued McClintock, "and your morning meal will be your own affair. After I took the bills it was too late to turn back. He uttered one word over and over, monotonously: "Fool! … Fool!" But invariably the touch of Ruth's hand quieted him, and his head would cease to roll from side to side. Something tells me I am rushing on greater danger. Her mind turned and accused itself of having been cold and hard. 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.
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