He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. “Do you understand what I am talking about? It’s no good if you don’t. “Serves you right if I’d cracked your skull. Jonathan had to feel his way. Mrs Sindlesham’s wrinkled cheek had paled, and her eyes were fixed upon Gerald in a look that wrung his heart.
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