As for me, I look twice at it. ” Capes looked at his wife’s unsmiling face. They drove rapidly through the emptying streets. She bussed his cheek with her small lips as he stood by the open door, and exited alone towards the sleeping house. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. 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. We can love on a snow cornice, we can love over a pail of whitewash. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford.
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