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. He laid her on their old bed and kissed her from head to toe. ’ He clenched his fists and grew red in the face. CHAPTER XII. ‘All right, Trodger.
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