” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school. The road which wound by Westbourne Green, gave him a full view of the hill of Hampstead with its church, its crest of houses, and its villas peeping from out the trees. He refrained from pointing out that the case would be exactly the same if she was not a lady. You think you love this other man! No doubt you do love him. “Don’t be an ass, Ferringhall,” he said tersely. “No. The boat in which he rode was not overset. "No, I shan't," replied Rachel, saucily. As she crossed the square, almost within a stone’s throw of her lodgings, she came face to face with Courtlaw.
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