It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. ‘It does not matter, Jacques. What was his transport on perceiving that a few yards above him a light was burning. All the same, I wish I had that fellow by the throat! Just the virile, unregenerate man in me wishes that. “This is my way back to my side of the Park,” she said. It was a charming sight to watch the motions of her tiny fingers as she pursued her task; and though the posture she adopted was not the most favourable that might have been chosen for the display of her sylphlike figure, there was something in her attitude, and the glow of her countenance, lighted up by the mellow radiance of the setting sun falling upon her through the panes of the little dormer-window, that seemed to the youth inexpressibly beautiful.
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