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. ‘What in the world is that?’ demanded Miss Froxfield. Gerald grinned. 6. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am. “Since last night. He got up. No! not even the derivation! But the fashion’s been set and in it you must be. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil. But a woman’s life is all chance. Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. “Very likely,” he answered.
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