She remained on guard. 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. Why don’t I just go and get the key from Pottiswick?’ Alderley flicked a glance back at him over his shoulder. Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, "that people of quality laughed so. The touch of his lips neither thrilled nor alarmed her, because the eyes that looked into hers were clean. You see, it is that I begin to like you, even that you are of this disposition extremely interfering. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. The boy was coming around. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered.
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