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. It was a moment or two before Gerald, opening his eyes on the girl’s astounded expression, recollected himself sufficiently to pull out of the extraordinary impact she’d had on him. —Jonathan Wild: August 31st, 1724. ‘Come, mademoiselle. Certainly your major—’ ‘Ah, now that’s just it, missie.
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