“He produced what he called a marriage certificate, and I believe that nearly every one in the boarding-house, including Mrs. There were menacing possibilities; the thought of them set him a-tremble. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes.
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