"That's a fine tale," said Spurlock. "Read the first chapter of Job"; beyond that, nothing. 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. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. . ‘And you come to me, thinking yourself half French, and expect me to take you in. “But—” The long inconsecutive conversation by that time was getting on her nerves. ’ ‘Get rid of the wench,’ Roding said brutally.
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