Michelle looked at Lucy knowingly. Always the other things remained. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. An immediate halt took place. ‘I knowed he were a wrong ’un, but that. ’ ‘It’s not that,’ the nun said urgently, ‘but I’ve remembered something important. 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. I couldn’t help the thought.
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