He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. It has become a part of the order of my life. Soldiers were stationed at different points of the street to keep off the mob, and others were riding backwards and forwards to maintain an open space for the passage of the procession. ‘Indeed?’ Gerald grinned. A deadly sickness came over her, the room seemed spinning round. Such pretty manners, she thought.
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