I’m right again now. You are always doing something for nothing, and that is why I love you. 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. “One has such ridiculous ideas of the wicked common people and the beautiful machinery of order that ropes them in. For a moment she thought of saying yes, and then filled with shame.
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