After he was gone in the morning, Ruth would steal into the study and hurriedly read what he had written the previous night. 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. “I do hope I have been able to make you understand how I feel, that you don’t consider me a hopeless prig. "Strange!" observed the Master; "I thought he'd been at my elbow all this time. You make a game with me, imbecile. Guided by the glare of the forge, which threw a stream of ruddy light across the road, Jack soon found the place of which he was in search. At least for one moment, it was.
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