” “Don’t say that,” Sydney begged. She sat herself upon the bed. “Let’s go in here. “How so?” “I should have shared these things with you earlier, my sweet heart. "Is it you?" "It is," replied Sheppard, as he untied the cords. The manager had sketched the girl's character, or rather had interpreted it, from the incidents which had happened since dinner. 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. “There’s another instinct, too,” he went on, “in a state of suppression, unless I’m very much mistaken; a child-expelling instinct.
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