” He took his place by her side, and they talked lightly of London, the shops and people. “Who can tell?” she said. But she was only able to save a corner of the letter. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. . What do you know about her, Fred? I am interested.
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