That night a grave was dug in Willesden churchyard, next to that in which Mrs. Let's go up and see how the patient is doing. She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. Into this hole in the wall and out of it the native stream flowed from sunrise to sunset, when the stream mysteriously ceased. But sadly, at Lullingstone we are too far off the coast to be of use.
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