She could think of nothing more to say. “She is marvellously clever,” he said. Her hair touched water, becoming like the seaweed in its velvet slickness. Why don’t I just go and get the key from Pottiswick?’ Alderley flicked a glance back at him over his shoulder. 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.
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