Glancing idly up at her own window as they had swung round the corner she had seen a strange thing. CHAPTER XXIII. ” It was sitting in her suitcase in the same pocket as the expired bus tickets. His little doll. "My sight is failing me. ‘She’s an eviltempered little termagant, yes, but there’s no malice aforethought. Skirting the noble gardens of Montague House, (now, we need scarcely say, the British Museum,) the party speedily reached Great Russell Street,—a quarter described by Strype, in his edition of old Stow's famous Survey, "as being graced with the best buildings in all Bloomsbury, and the best inhabited by the nobility and gentry, especially the north side, as having gardens behind the houses, and the prospect of the pleasant fields up to Hampstead and Highgate; insomuch that this place, by physicians, is esteemed the most healthful of any in London. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project. It was exactly as Sebastian had foreseen. The signal of distress was evidently understood. She knew that to expect more now was like anticipating a gold-mine in the garden. He can't play cards, either, when he's sober.
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