She kept thinking she was thinking about Mr. She almost submitted to this ending of her adventure. ‘You dare to come to me? What do you wish of me? Why have you come? I do not want you!’ She swept round on Gerald abruptly and he braced for the onslaught. 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. ‘Fiddle, Gerald. Her state of mind would have seemed altogether discreditable to her grandmother. . "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. But I do not love you.
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