" As familiar as Quilt Arnold himself with every part of Wild's mysterious abode, as well as with the ways of its inmates, Jack, without a moment's hesitation, took up a lamp which was burning in the hall, and led his companion up the great stone stairs. “You’re a student, perhaps?” said the tall woman. The night was now advancing, and the party began to think of separating. 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. She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. The subject matter was generally worthless, but the handling was well done. She turned to face him and he kissed her.
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