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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. Ramage back his forty pounds. “I should kill you. “The fool I have been!” he cried; and now speech was coming to him. “Why should I bear the burden of your wickedness? Who knows what might come of it? I shall permit nothing of the sort. An enormous Hand that rose up swiftly, blotting out the sky.
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