Dear me, what a nuisance it is to have a pseudo husband shot down upon one from the skies. "Is it gold?" "Pure gold," replied Kneebone. 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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