He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him. “The plain common-sense of the case,” he said, “is that we can’t possibly be lovers in the ordinary sense. He did not like it. ‘Lover’s tiff indeed. If you ride out there, and the place is well worth a visit, for the magnificent view it commands of some of the finest country in the neighbourhood of London,—you are certain to meet with him. A mutual recognition took place at the same instant between the stranger and this individual. "Of course, I haven't the least evidence that the boy has done anything wrong; it's what I'd call a hunch; piecing this and that together.
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