He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. ‘Moi, je vais vous tuer!’ ‘I don’t think so,’ Gerald said through his teeth. " "Never mind," returned the stranger, dismounting; "you'll recollect me by and by, I've no doubt. “Do it now. We were going at a mad pace.
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