He beheld the grey tower of Willesden Church, embosomed in its grove of trees, now clothed, in all the glowing livery of autumn. “I’m going for a long tramp, auntie,” she said. She was in excellent spirits, and it was not until she had taken off her hat, and was considering the question of dinner or no dinner, that she remembered that another day had passed, and she was not a whit nearer being able to pay her tomorrow’s bill. A little Cockney recovered it, and made ridiculous attempts to get to her and replace it. Heard of your last escape.
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