Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. For a few days she was fascinated by the place, exploring the moldy rooms, the weird treasures hiding in forgotten trousseaus. “I was sent for to go to the Hospital St. Wood,—the person whom you may remember adopted him,—at Dollis Hill, near Willesden; and it's a singular but fortunate circumstance, so far as we are concerned, that Mrs. He daren't quarrel with me: and if he does, let him look to himself.
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