" "The very point I aim at," said Darrell as he passed through the outlet. You know the danger of this breakneck road as well as I do. It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal. The door into the passage offered itself with an irresistible invitation—the one alternative to a public, inexplicable passion of weeping. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. If he recovers he may not accuse her. These were the Master's body-guard.
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