The island was snake-free. Washed in light from the vestry window, she held her ground, all thought at bay, bar the steel determination long ago instilled in her by her unconventional tutor. ” “Excellent,” Sir John declared. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. He savored the last solo, the coda. "How, Sir?" "Except by adoption. “He is not—I don’t like him. ‘You will keep yourself utterly quiet,’ he instructed, a growl in her ear as they headed for the door. How's that strike you?" "Very well, sir.
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