” She looked at him doubtfully. In the evening, a band of village musicians, accompanied by most of the young inhabitants of Willesden, strolled out to Dollis Hill, where they formed a rustic concert under the great elm before the door. Won’t you come and have some tea with me? There is a new place in Bond Street,” he hastened to say, “where everything is very well done, and they give us music, if that is any attraction to you. Fresh ground, no chicory, and all the rest of it. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances.
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