The noise of a bolt came to Alderley’s ears. ‘Yes, but I’m probably chasing moonbeams. 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. Your reputation for hospitality would remain under a cloud though, for tea was distinctly mentioned. ” “Come, Molly,” said Mr. Bullding repeated, rather struck with the phrase.
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