She was practically destitute of jewellery. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. Her back arched and she felt herself instinctively sinking into him. Melusine’s heart ached for him, but she had to force him on. “So am I the jewel or the bug inside?” He smiled.
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