D'ye hear. Then she called a hansom and drove home. The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. It wouldn’t be you. 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. ” She sat very still. V. Ho-hum! CHAPTER IX The Hong-Kong packet lay alongside the warehouse frontage.
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