"Jack," said Mrs. It’s my other side of the moon. It is a matter of degree. He grabbed her wrist and prised the weapon from her fingers, ignoring her other hand that clawed at his to try to retain the trophy. “You know,” he muttered, “you know quite well that your troubles are far more likely to weigh upon me than my own. 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's down in Patagonia somewhere. Returning to Mrs Sindlesham’s chair, he held up the miniature so the face depicted there was turned towards the old lady.
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