The conversation turned towards the subject of the Diedermayer’s many European vacations. 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. “Yes?” he said. But it was the form of her ruling determination; it was the only form that she ever allowed to see daylight.
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