The jealous burn at his eyes subsided and his finger came up. “Has she ever thought of buying a pair of foam earplugs?” Lucy asked. 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.
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