She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. 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. “Now,” he said, quietly, “it’s time we stopped this nonsense.
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