He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. CHAPTER I. . His fingers closed upon her hand. The books would be soaked and ruined in the rain anyway through the thin skin of the pack. The marriage cannot—shall not be delayed. She guessed Jack was having trouble finding the right piece of carving. “Sort of man who can see no further than his nose,” he remarked contemptuously.
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