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He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. In your heart you know very well that this is absurd. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. He fancied that when they had had time to reflect, they would regret it still more. He hesitated. Dunster shall fetch you a cab. The afternoon had passed now into twilight.
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