“I wonder what happened. Except for the dull eyes and the extreme pallor of his face, there was nothing else to indicate that he was deep in liquor. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. “I supposed that he took off his hat to you. I wonder whether you would mind, Lady Ferringhall,” he went on, with a sudden glance at her, “if I tell you that you yourself remind me a great deal more of what she was like then, except of course that your complexion and colouring are altogether different. He found himself growing hoarse yelling over the music, but it also situated him to lean towards her to put his hand on her ear to aid her hearing. No matter how swiftly he pursued this riddle, he could not bring it to a halt.
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