Her confession was still unmade. Yet an indiscriminating, wrong-headed world gave such fellows all sorts of distinctions. Remember ——” Annabel clutched her sister’s arm. "Man, man! You're coming to life. 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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