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. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. I'm sorry. ‘You wish to tell me something? Parbleu, I have nearly forgot once more. . .
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