\"I told you he likes you!\" She whispered hotly into Lucy's ear. 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. ‘Madwoman,’ he screamed back, as he climbed over the next pew, eyes darting down briefly to check for his sword. Her confession was still unmade. He would pull this young fellow back; but later he knew that he would have to fight the boy's lack of will to live. She had turned round sideways, so as to look down into the fire. She could tell it was new territory for him and he might lose the nerve to take them off himself, without the aid of drink. Too easily roused emotions and too little passion. He grunted a little with effort, and she realised the gilt frame must be heavy. Teenage boys never change, she thought to herself.
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