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. “Sooner or later, John, it will come to that. Her voice recalled him. I hope she falls off the face of the planet. Give this fellow the slip, if you can, Jack. Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. All sorts of battered tramps, junks and riff-raff of the seas trailed in and out. His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky. At the head of the cart was placed the coffin.
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