255 “You have a very talented son,” was her opening line. “Gods!” cried Ann Veronica, and kept him standing. This is my last week at the ‘Unusual,’ you know. We’re different. ’ ‘I am afraid that there is,’ Gerald told her evenly. Arrived at Westbourne-Green—then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from KensallGreen. “Read this, John. Hogarth," he observed, significantly.
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