"Thames!—Thames!" cried Winifred, rushing to the window. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. 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.
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