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. “I am one who controls most of the Church, dear. ‘Very well, mademoiselle, so be it,’ he snapped. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. " There was another pause.
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