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. Except he was the only idiot who would stay. There was no broken faith—not even any question of anything of the sort. “I wonder,” he said, “if women do know things by instinct? I have my doubts about feminine instinct. I will teach you how to make that little sufficient.
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