“I mean to go to prison directly the session is over,” said Miss Klegg. 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. For a few minutes, she appeared scarcely sensible of his presence. She did not want to seem to shrink from conversation, but all sorts of odd questions were running through her mind.
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