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. You represent to me an enigma, the solution of which has become the one desire of my life. ‘Ain’t no call for you to go a-blaming of yourself.
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