Here, Jem, take the gentleman's horse to the stable—see him dressed and fed directly. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. Few approached the émigrés directly, preferring to stare covertly from behind their fans, while pretending to admire the simple elegance of Lady Bicknacre’s neo-classical refurbishments. ‘Not from the nuns, no. Sheppard, eagerly. Yet in some hidden corner was a vein of sentiment, of which for the first time in his later life he was now unexpectedly aware. "You remember that starling, Sir Rowland," he said maliciously, "and what occurred on it, twelve years ago?" "Too well," answered the knight, frowning.
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