She had never thought of him at all in that way before. When the doctor came in—he had just finished his breakfast—O'Higgins rose and presented his card. “Don’t befool me any more,” he answered, almost roughly. Skirting the noble gardens of Montague House, (now, we need scarcely say, the British Museum,) the party speedily reached Great Russell Street,—a quarter described by Strype, in his edition of old Stow's famous Survey, "as being graced with the best buildings in all Bloomsbury, and the best inhabited by the nobility and gentry, especially the north side, as having gardens behind the houses, and the prospect of the pleasant fields up to Hampstead and Highgate; insomuch that this place, by physicians, is esteemed the most healthful of any in London. Left to Capting Roding, as he told me hisself, you’d be in prison this moment. ” Sir John, frankly oblivious of the possibility of passers-by, took her into his arms and kissed her.
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