75 “Lucy’s going to Prom with John Diedermayer?” Cathy nodded emphatically. 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. ‘What could either of us have done?’ To Gerald’s acute consternation, Melusine’s lip trembled suddenly, and her eyes filled. But me, I am going to England.
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