Jackson took an accurate survey of the room with his one eye, Mr. 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 mustn’t talk any more,” he said, “but I want you to listen to me just for a moment.
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