” “I will have your reason for this,” he said. She was fine and tender. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. I felt somehow I’d hurt you. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded.
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