“What do you mean?” she asked. In the evening, a band of village musicians, accompanied by most of the young inhabitants of Willesden, strolled out to Dollis Hill, where they formed a rustic concert under the great elm before the door. ‘Think it’s worth getting some sort of light and following her down there?’ asked Roding. It was not a difficult affair. It was about—a question of what I might do or might not do. Kneebone he's not here. I want to leave Paris to-day—this very day.
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