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. ‘Do not be imbecile. And yet that could not be: it was a confession only in the event of his death. “Are we interrupting anything?” “No!” Martin jumped slightly. Or I should say—’ ‘Eugenia,’ cut in Gerald grimly. “I ought to have done anything! “What’s a man for? “Friendship!” He doubled up his fist, and seemed to contemplate thrusting it through the window. She looked stealthily at Anna. So here I am, king of all I survey, with a predilection for poker, a scorched liver, and a piano-player.
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