She would come back and write letters, carefully planned and written letters, or read some book she had fetched from Mudie’s—she had invested a half-guinea with Mudie’s—or sit over her fire and think. Danger, the most terrible she had ever faced, was substantially in this room. 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. ‘Now then, my lad, you’re under arrest you are. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. I’d ruin the things if I so much as touched one. "I'm come to say good bye to you, and to assure you of my safety before I leave this place.
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