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. “So you’re the one my son has been talking about. Without a word or a gesture, the Wastrel turned and staggered forth, out of the orbit of these two, having been thrust into it for a single purpose already described. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. This is the way the old thief brings in all his heavy plunder, which he stows in out-of-the-way holes in his infernal dwelling. ” He paused, and went on, after a keen look at her: “I had rather gossip to a really intelligent girl than to any man alive. We've ridden post all the way, and I'm horribly tired, or you wouldn't have mastered me so easily. ’ Melusine drowned in his kiss. ” “I am highly flattered,” she remarked, with subtle irony.
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