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. They sat in the windowed booth at the restaurant across from each other. Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. But I waited in vain. So far the thing was acceptable enough. Anna opened a cupboard and produced cups and saucers and a tin of coffee. “Wonderful man!” said Ann Veronica, reassured, and stroking his cheek with her finger. “It is Michelle, John.
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