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. She was alarmed at how little her husband Gianfrancesco packed for the trip, leaving behind his best scarlet and black lucco, which he wore for every business and political meeting. “By Jove!” he broke out, “one tries to take a serious, sober view. “A joke! Sir John, if you had presented yourself here an hour ago we should have greeted you in pained silence.
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