He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. "I was right," replied Jack, returning as coolly as if nothing had happened. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. “You could have a talk to Miss Kitty Brett this afternoon, if you liked.
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