He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. Nor must it be imagined, that while he thus exercised his teeth, he neglected the flagon. Leastways, she’d be your greataunt, wouldn’t she?’ Astounded, Melusine was just about to demand further information, when a commotion outside the room interrupted her. “Arthur, this is Miss Pellissier—Mr. Ramage’s bitterness passed as abruptly as his aggression.
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