And stony broke. ‘Don’t fob me off, boy. 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. “I have been bearing this—for your sake. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire.
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