” Annabel no longer attempted to conceal her emotion. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. The music throbbed into the warnings that preceded the king’s irruption. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually. " "Oh, Jack!" cried his mother, falling upon his neck, and covering him with kisses.
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