She complained of the crowded cities, dismayed that the people were repopulating them like rabbits. 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. She perceived she had never really thought of any one but herself in all her acts and plans. Perhaps you'll give me in return some token, by which I may remind you of this occurrence, in case we meet again. She told you —the truth. "You've been quizzing my friend Kent, I perceive, in your Burlington Gate.
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