" Half an hour later she laid aside the book. 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. He shuddered. “Ritter’s!” said Ramage to the driver, “Dean Street. "I'll see him fettered myself. With a strong tendency to satire, but without a particle of malice or ill-nature in its display. I did not reckon upon—him. " "Never!" rejoined Kneebone, with increased ardour,—"never, till I receive from your own lips the answer which is to make me the happiest or the most miserable of mankind. I sang to him, and he was satisfied.
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