Everything in the world had changed for her. As the day wore on, the crowds diminished,—many who would not submit to the turnkey's demands were sent away ungratified,—and at five o'clock, only two strangers, Mr. "The gentleman is a stranger to me, Poll," replied the woollen-draper, with increased embarrassment. The road which wound by Westbourne Green, gave him a full view of the hill of Hampstead with its church, its crest of houses, and its villas peeping from out the trees. Even her debt to him was a triviality now. I was—I was a corespondent. And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. “TROUSERS!” she whispered.
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