The books slid from her arms and fluttered to the floor. “My parents left for Vail on a plane this morning. She crushed the letter in her hand. “He fell over at my feet,” she continued. 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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