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She was glad when he went on: “I want to be your city of refuge from every sort of bother. After all, this could never be the black sheep. Urging his steed along Oxford Road,— as that great approach to the metropolis was then termed,—he soon passed Marylebone Lane, beyond which, with the exception of a few scattered houses, the country was completely open on the right, and laid out in pleasant fields and gardens; nor did he draw in the rein until he arrived at Tyburn-gate, where, before he turned off upon the Edgeware Road, he halted for a moment, to glance at the place of execution. And she found herself able to do nothing of the sort. We have lived under the same roof, but our ways seem to have lain wide apart.
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