The whole of that relationship persisted in remaining obscure. He had not taken many steps when he perceived Quilt Arnold in the upper gallery, with a lamp in his hand. And so Winifred understood him. 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. Gerald swore. Don’t leave me in this beastly thing. While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark. ‘But we—mon mari and myself—we have the bonne chance.
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