” “You remembered. "I used to cry myself to sleep, Hoddy, I was so forlorn and lonely. In the evening, a band of village musicians, accompanied by most of the young inhabitants of Willesden, strolled out to Dollis Hill, where they formed a rustic concert under the great elm before the door. Everything had stayed the same during the centuries. Our land brings us in nothing. The air might be cool, but half an hour without head-gear was an invitation to sunstroke. I want to talk to him and go about with him.
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