’ ‘Poor little devil,’ said Gerald, genuinely sorry for her. Wood, whose loss I shall ever deplore. I'll call for you after lunch. Then a servant girl brought in a telegram. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. It was not until the morning of the fifth day that the constant vigil was broken. "Your name is Spurlock?" "It is. The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below.
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