‘His granddaughter?’ ‘Yes, his son’s daughter. 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. . There’s no sense in morality, I suppose, unless you are fundamentally immoral. " "Impossible, dear Mrs. Earles strode into the waiting-room.
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