They did not care— servant or master, it meant nothing. 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. He squatted and threw his arm around the backs of her knees. This was Blueskin, who burst through the trees, and sword in hand assaulted the thief-taker.
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