” He mumbled, driving on. You have to marry me. The sun was all but gone now, the horizon a deep shade of purple. ’ Then she ran swiftly out of the library, calling out as her cavalier was almost at the front door. The bliss had lasted one hundred and forty years, far more than an entire mortal lifetime. The law would accord her all her previous rights: she would return to the exact status out of which in his madness he had taken her. 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.
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