There was a long silence between them. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. ‘Truth is, it’s Gerald who’s put me in the devil’s own temper, ma’am. ’ ‘How do you do?’ Gerald said pleasantly, stepping from the pillared portico and coming down the shallow stairway. “The fool I have been!” he cried; and now speech was coming to him. ‘You wouldn’t know one end of a pistol from the other. “This isn’t furtive,” said Ann Veronica.
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