He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. Her little white hand stole across the table. She saw Lucy darkening her doorstep and stood from the recliner. “He was no help to the police, just babbled on about how he was going to marry your Mom and how he was in love with her, that they he had lost his true love, Michelle insisted on repeating that to me, ‘He lost his true love. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother.
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