“I believe that you are right,” he said softly. He was staring at her, openly gaping. 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. He was apt to play so many games, she was afraid she might have misunderstood. “Those young men startled me at first, because they knew my name. Never mind.
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