CHAPTER IX. "Hear me!" cried Thames, bursting into tears. 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. To be confronted with the girl’s damned Frenchman of a husband was another matter altogether.
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