If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. ’ ‘Back?’ Melusine put a hand to her aching temple. You square the G. 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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