" "But not for me," growled Terence, in an under tone. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. ‘Gerald, this is a nun’s habit. She wondered even at this late day how she had been able to hold her maddening curiosity in check. “You are Mademoiselle Pellissier?” he asked, without rising to his feet. She walked through the office to the door, aimlessly.
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