H’m. There has never been a white woman at McClintock's. 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. He heard Melusine cry out, but his attention was all for the nick he had made in her neck. " "Lead the way to it then, Saint Giles," said Jack, in a tone of mock authority.
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