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. “And even then—” The conversation hung for a thoughtful moment. The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. She kissed Cathy's soft cheek as she entered the warm kitchen. Yet either the rest or the wine seemed already to have done him good.
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