Hill was exchanging greetings with his hostess, and salutations around the table. His clothes had evidently seen some service, and were plentifully begrimed with the dust of the workshop. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. You only mean a secret for a little time?” “Just for a little time,” she said; “yes.
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