A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. 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. "You should be glad to be made an honest woman. She should have slapped him but she was in shock at her own thoughts of lust that arose. Remember that I’ve seen Brewis Charvill, and I’m well aware of your identity. “You will pardon me, sir,” he said in a subdued tone, “but I think that you have forgotten to look at your engagement book.
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