He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. “I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it. \"Word gets round. Down we come!" he exclaimed, letting go the plank, which fell with a crash, and leaping after Sheppard, who had rolled off the frame. He said simply that he wanted her to live at home.
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