She wished her father and aunt would not enjoy their dinner with such quiet determination. “Mr. "Some dreadful deed is about to be committed, which I may perhaps prevent," muttered Jack to himself. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. Pragmar, the wholesale druggist, who lived three gardens away, and who had been mowing his lawn to get an appetite for dinner, standing in a fascinated attitude beside the forgotten lawn-mower and watching her intently.
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