144 I think he heard about the backpack and the spitballs finally. "Won't you take these?" For a space he merely stared at her, perhaps wondering if she were real. But from the rest—you saved me. ‘Cousin? But I am a fool. 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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