” “Why did you keep her all of these years? What good can it do?” “She created me, Lucia. Wood, whose loss I shall ever deplore. She quickened her pace, and so did he, talking at her slightly averted ear. 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.
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