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. “This is my way back to my side of the Park,” she said. ‘I assure you it was mutual. "Ireton, as you captured him, the reward is yours. Through yet another doorway she observed an ancient silk brocade loom.
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