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. They must have a key. He was completely, devastatingly handsome. So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. I waited for her at the back. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. The intense darkness added to the terror of the storm. Seemed like he knew so much—more than me, miss. I only seen her when she come with that Sister Martha.
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