Anyhow he confessed that he was a fraud. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. ’ Madame gave one of those breathy laughs. 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. ‘Got you!’ ‘You!’ Stunned, Melusine moved quickly away from the tell-tale bookshelf.
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