She waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry. She was frightfully hungry. He had been formally adopted by the Becks at the age of twelve. He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. Miss Ellicot pursed her lips and sat a little more upright. Capes.
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