In the evening, a band of village musicians, accompanied by most of the young inhabitants of Willesden, strolled out to Dollis Hill, where they formed a rustic concert under the great elm before the door. “Don’t you know?” “Oh! I know—” “Well—” Her face was an unaccustomed pink. "Vell, vell," growled Sharples, after he had listened to the other's remonstrances, "it shall be done. Manning, “they’re a dream. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. . "And when I further tell you," continued Jack, "that, after yourself and my mother, I am the next heir to the estates of my grandfather, Sir Montacute Trenchard, you will perhaps own that my caution is sufficiently disinterested.
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