This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. ” “Then perhaps,” she answered, with a new coldness in her tone, “perhaps I really do not care. It wasn’t clear to me that I had to explain. Martin’s eyes seemed about to pop out of his head.
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