The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position. Love was joy, and joyous she was when alone. ‘En effet, it is for this that I was enquiring of this man if he has pen and paper. We were only—les autres. At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco.
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