He had nothing more to say either to her or to Spurlock. . She felt she must get him talking upon some impersonal theme at any cost. ’ She fairly pushed at Gerald, who grinned and gave in, moving back to the still open door. He wore a long coat, beautifully flowered, and a hat with a turned up brim. She caught the fact that it was something more than strong drink that laid you out. The eyes left him, searching beside the chair for her cane. Skirting the noble gardens of Montague House, (now, we need scarcely say, the British Museum,) the party speedily reached Great Russell Street,—a quarter described by Strype, in his edition of old Stow's famous Survey, "as being graced with the best buildings in all Bloomsbury, and the best inhabited by the nobility and gentry, especially the north side, as having gardens behind the houses, and the prospect of the pleasant fields up to Hampstead and Highgate; insomuch that this place, by physicians, is esteemed the most healthful of any in London. It was common name, so I was thrown off the scent. I saw him last night at Jonathan Wild's, after my escape from the New Prison. That’s one thing clear. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. "Ruth?" "Hoddy!" she cried.
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