He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. "You musht do dat shob yourself, Mishter Vild," rejoined Abraham, shaking his head. Jack's heart was too full to allow him to derive any pleasure from this scene; so he strolled on without raising his eyes till he arrived at Kensal Green. She laughed nervously, but kept her eyes averted. just furtive meetings.
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