And the woollen-draper departed. “I have answered all your questions,” she said. They were going up the slope into Waterloo Station. 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 know you'll not deceive me.
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