"Let us in," said the Master, rapping his truncheon authoritatively against the boards, "or we'll force an entrance. 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. They sat face to face beneath an experienced-looking rucksack and a brand new portmanteau and a leather handbag, in the afternoon-boat train that goes from Charing Cross to Folkestone for Boulogne. ‘Quite mad, nuns are. He might have supposed the fellow would be eager to be rid of the tale, for that he might have longer to enjoy the amenities of the Triumphal Chariot where the meeting had been appointed. Montague Hill. That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap. I do not know anything of him since I have fourteen years, and that he sent me to Blaye to be a nun.
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