Further on, there were impressions of bloody footsteps along the floor. 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. " "You will never become that, Ruth. ‘She is constantly thinking of you,’ I said.
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