“Okay, Mom. ‘I must see the lady who is my great-aunt. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. 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. "The poor things!" The manager laughed.
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