” She closed her mouth. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. \"Thank you. Superstition—you knock into it whichever way you turn. 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.
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