Trenchard was tempted to examine the contents of some of these cases, but a closer inspection made him recoil from them in disgust. Totally disregarding the pain, he picked up the nail, and reserved it for future use. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees.
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