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 beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments. Sensing his discomfort, she stood up and brushed lint off of the hem of her gray miniskirt. “I shall be very glad to have you for a friend,” he said, “loving friend. ‘She wants you. I should have thought my note cleared up everything. Earles remarked genially. You say I know nothing. For the first time, perhaps, in his life, he repented of his brutality. They were horrible people.
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