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Never. Fortescue raised his eyebrows and assumed a light-comedy expression. ‘But it is entirely myself,’ she exclaimed aloud. ” “You can’t be that,” said Ann Veronica, wisely. ‘As I have said, it was a quarrel between the vicomte and Monsieur Charvill. Good riddance to bad rubbish. 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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