Wood set off at full speed from the Mint, and, hurrying he scarce knew whither (for there was such a continual buzzing in his ears and dancing in his eyes, as almost to take away the power of reflection), he held on at a brisk pace till his strength completely failed him. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. ” “But how?” He was, she thought, a little too insistent. 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. I could see his little animal brain churning away, inventing plans for me, formulating his revenge. I will no longer be a burthen to those upon whom I have no claim, but compassion.
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