Let me lie in Willesden churchyard. "Jack!" cried Thames, in a loud voice, "you deserve to be hanged for a rebel as you are to your lawful king and your lawful master. ’ Amazed, Melusine stared at him. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. What'll we call him—Rollo?"—ironically.
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