Her hair was held back in a filigreed barrette. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. Wood's present position, and subsequent proceedings fully intelligible, it may be necessary to give some notion of the shape and structure of the platform on which he had taken refuge. “My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension. At this time of day the priest would be at his apartments in Brewer Street, a short walk away from Golden Square which the building overlooked. “Put her in the trunk. Eyebrows knitting, she looked towards the ground a few feet away from him, guiltily. To even presume a lustful thought about her was to ask for one’s own death.
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