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. There’s no family uniting instinct, anyhow; it’s habit and sentiment and material convenience hold families together after adolescence. The relationship seemed to have almost as much to do with blood and body as a mortgage.
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