Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. " In less time than Hobson had mentioned, the carriage was announced. They could not go on. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. ‘He can’t be Valade, that’s certain,’ mused Gerald, unheeding. The Roof and the Window. The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. " She had no reason to doubt him.
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