It's a big, old-fashioned, gray stone house on St. John Street, just a nice little constitutional from Redmond.

`residence' of great folk, but fashion has deserted St. John Street and its houses only dream now of better days.

The full and romantic career of Evelyn Murgatroyd is best hit off by her own words, "Call me Evelyn and I'll call you St. John." She said that on very slight provocation--her surname was enough-- but although a great many young men had answered her already with considerable spirit she went on saying it and making choice of none.

"Amazingly clear," exclaimed St. John, identifying one cleft in the land after another.

I calculated that the boy might be back in twenty minutes, and that I might drive to St. John's Wood, on his return, in twenty minutes more.

"Forest Road, St. John's Wood," I called to him through the front window.

St. John asked if he would like either o' ye to be sent for, he fair laughed at him.

St. John demanded an account--which at present I was far too weak to render--I said after a brief pause -

I turned back away from the park and struck into Park Road, intending to skirt the park, went along under the shelter of the terraces, and got a view of this stationary, howling Martian from the direction of St. John's Wood.

I came upon the wrecked handling-machine halfway to St. John's Wood station.