"So, stir your stumps, Saint Giles; and, if you mean to lock us up, use despatch. On the day he carried the manuscript to Copeley's he brought back a packet of letters, magazines, and newspapers. They cannot imagine the discomforts involved, and they see only mystery in your fight to recover your lost heritage. “She wasn’t sane, my wife. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit.
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