Guiltily, she felt very little for him, and yet she wondered what he would be like. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. His lawful wife; but nothing more; beyond that she was only an idea, a trust. She had seen her really only at teas, with the Stanley strain in her uppermost. The intoxicating sense of novelty had given place to a more business-like mood.
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