‘Do not beg his pardon,’ intervened Melusine quickly, coming between them. But he had now lost the precise spot; and thinking he had examined the drain, turned his attention to another quarter. In the obscurity in which it was now seen, it looked like a prison, and, indeed, it was Jonathan's fancy to make it resemble one as much as possible. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn.
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