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’ ‘I shall stop him,’ declared the old lady furiously. ” Sir John clutched at the table with both hands. 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’re right. "Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone.
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