One of the coolies held the paper lantern. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. 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. It seemed an emblem of the ruin he had caused. “I don’t think she will,” she said.
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