CHAPTER XXX. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. . “I confess it. . ” Anna measured out the coffee. One always dreamed of this and never believed it. But if God is kind to me, someday I may climb up to where you are.
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