"Where is he?" asked she, in an agitated whisper. Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. “I ate their mother first. "We're forgetting," he said. " "Oh!" Ruth laughed softly. 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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