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. "Close the door!" commanded Trenchard, impatiently. She found herself talking to Capes in an undertone of rational admission. But it wasn’t the harassment that bothered her. ’ He grinned.
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