‘Woof!’ uttered Trodger, gazing at the lady in some awe. At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour. Well-balanced, sane, wasn’t I? You never heard anyone call me a madman? I’m pretty near being one now, and it’s her fault. The road which wound by Westbourne Green, gave him a full view of the hill of Hampstead with its church, its crest of houses, and its villas peeping from out the trees.
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