When he tried the scullery door, and would have moved on, Hilary intervened. You never can tell. "But I like Bobby Burns best. I haven’t murdered any one, or broken the law in any way that I know of. You don’t know what you ask nor what you say. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. And then—this sudden thrust. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable. I’ll give you an uncrossed check, and then you can get it at the bank here, quite close by. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she.
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