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. She glanced towards her sister, and curiously enough found in her face some faint reflection of her own rather sombre mirth. “Frightful lot of things aren’t settled,” said Ann Veronica. ” “What?” He asked.
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