Melusine’s heart ached for him, but she had to force him on. 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. He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, thinking intently. The waterman sheltered his mouth with his hand while he spoke, or his voice would have been carried away by the violence of the blast. She was on the rim of civilization, entering, as Spurlock was on the rim, preparing to make his exit. “Just at present my mind simply won’t take hold of this at all.
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