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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. \"Well, to tell you the truth, John Diedermayer. She could hardly speak to me; she insisted relentlessly upon a separation. He was not due from the City until about six, and so she went and played Badminton with the Widgett girls until dinner-time. "Confusion! the rascal must have picked my pocket of your letters," whispered Kneebone, "What's to be done?" "What's to be done! Why, I'm undone! How imprudent in you not to burn them. ’ She giggled suddenly. You will be with me. ” “And such a beast of a one,” Sydney remarked vigorously. How provoking!" she added, pretending to rummage her pockets; "one never can find a thing when one wants it. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. "How long shall I be here?" he asked. "Now your curiosity's satisfied, child," continued Kneebone, "perhaps, you'll attend to my orders.
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