She realized that with a pang of disgust and horror. 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. She laughed softly, and leaned across the table. “I wish they did,” he said, “but they don’t. This was the bitterest hour he had ever known. “I will tell you something if you like. The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back.
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