It was perfectly legitimate. ” John gestured. 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. Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. "That's for myself," rejoined Mrs. Shalford says—the accidental conquering the essential.
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