Mr. She returned home to the Beck house soaked and soggy. " "You'll dance upon nothing, presently," rejoined Jonathan, brutally. It was time to get up. Only she was conscious of an unfamiliar and wonderful emotion. 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.
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