The houses overhung in a frightful manner, and looked as if the next gust would precipitate them into the river. 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. There, that sounds frightfully involved, doesn’t it, but perhaps you can make out what I mean. Your career at the bar had given you a command of language, also a self-control not vouchsafed to us ordinary mortals. The fatal shower, from which he and his little charge escaped uninjured, had stricken his assailant and precipitated him into the boiling gulf.
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