The pouting cherry lips were slightly parted and the very faintest of panting breaths, together with the quick rise and fall of an alluring bosom, betrayed her fear. 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. He accepted this confession conditionally: that no young man had kissed her. The settlement was on the middle west coast. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. “Quite alone, sir.
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