Lightheaded, she threw up in the courtyard of the Palazzo as servants crowded her in alarm. ” Ann Veronica reflected. You know not what a wretched guilty thing I am. At the corner of Liquorpond Street stood the old Hampstead coach-office; and, on the night in question, a knot of hostlers, waggoners, drivers, and stable-boys was collected in the yard. It’s got to be at last like tobacco-ash over all my sayings and doings. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. A middle-aged countrywoman, plump of cheek, and a little shy. But what else he saw fit to teach her I do not care to stipulate. 1. Mr. CHAPTER XXIII.
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