Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. Perhaps the Parisian atmosphere had affected him. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. After feasting his eye upon this superb panorama, he was about to return, when he ascertained from a farmer that his nearest road to Willesden would be down a lane a little further on, to the right.
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