"Bless your soul! d'ye think I'm to be gammoned by such nonsense. Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. 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. No; I’m going to stick to the rules. Oh, you must believe me.
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