It was never intended that I should marry Monsieur Valade, but after the tragedy—’ her eyes darkening in genuine distress ‘—and that he was the only survivor, he came to me in the convent and married me, and brought me to England. Taking the wind was her business in life. Even the light was different in Athens, soft and golden, sweet as the morning dew blessed by Athena herself. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. He smiled.
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