He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. Mr. Ramage leaned over the gate at Ann Veronica’s side, and for a moment there was silence. “It’s unforgivable of me to call, Miss Stanley,” he said, shaking hands in a peculiar, high, fashionable manner; “but you know you said we might be friends. " "Take care of yourself," said Mr. .
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