She relented out of exhaustion, yet he would not let her near Marina, his embrace tightening. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. "Dying, Sir Rowland. But in the appendix of the dictionary she had discovered magic names—Hugo, Dumas, Thackeray, Hawthorne, Lytton. That is what I’ve had on my conscience. Her body rose up to meet his in a cat-like stretch and she smiled.
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