A door, it may be remembered, opened from Wild's dwelling into this yard. Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. 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. You foolish girl!” Ann Veronica took that in silence. Until the age of five she adored him. He was walking listlessly along, well-dressed, debonnair, good-looking. And now, when you come at last, you bring me this grandfather, and you dare to tell me I am like him.
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