“I was lonely. 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. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters. She could hear the bell tinkle as the horse shook its head.
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