"A mile or so Westward of Temple Bar."
"I think we will live in Kensington."
"Nay, prithee! would you have us die of dullness."
"Is Kensington dull?"
"'Tis very rustick. No! my charmer shall lodge in the Haymarket."
Phyllida pouted. There was a Haymarket in the country town to which she made an occasional visit from the little village of Newton Candover, and she remembered it as a dusty spot not fit for a new pair of shoes.
"I vow I should detest the Haymarket."
"Nay, 'tis the gayest place, with hackney coaches passing to and fro all day. You shall sit at your window and all the fine ladies of rank and fashion will envy you."
"And what will my Amor be doing?"
"He will be looking over his angel's shoulder."