Even given that he was hopelessly enamoured of the wench, a fact which was obvious to the meanest intelligence. Her grave fine face, her warm clear complexion, had already aroused his curiosity as he had gone to and fro in Morningside Park, and here suddenly he was near to her and talking freely and intimately. He even thought he could detect the voice of Jonathan, urging and directing them. ‘But I’ve known that for years. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. If he had got off, they might have hanged me, and welcome.
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