" "Have it, and welcome," rejoined Figg. Passing thought. ” “Oh, Drummond’s dinner!” she repeated. 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. Michelle bypassed the ordering counter and surfed directly to their table.
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