He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. Youth! You denied me even that," said Ruth, her glance now flashing to her father. "And I'll bet a doughnut that boy in his soul is crazy to have it over with. He touched her hand, soft and cool to his fingers—she turned at once to look at him.
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