‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. I see. "Who? Jack!" exclaimed Jonathan. 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. "What has caused this quarrel, Thames?" asked the little girl, anxiously. He wondered why she thought love made people happy, and began to talk of the smilax and pinks that adorned the table.
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