He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. The girl, with a little moan, crossed the room and threw open the window. " "Ay, ay," cried the jailers, laughing. “It’s all dirt that washes off, dear, but it’s dirt.
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