He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. ’ ‘Melusine,’ shrieked the nun. "Is this her work?" "It is," answered Thames. " "Hum!" "Have you any reason to suppose he survived the accident?" inquired Thames eagerly. The less she lived, in fact, the better. But it would be too risky. “Let’s go.
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