Her time and effort was justly rewarded, because the hard cold facts she knew about neighborhood intrigues were better than fictional soap operas. Her soft brown eyes, inherited from Larry, warmed an already pretty face. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. "And now," he continued, sternly, "was it your master who has just ridden by?" "No," answered Quilt, sullenly. And now let's go back to the Shovels, and finish our brandewyn and bier, Muntmeester. "I'll tell you," answered Jonathan, sternly.
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