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. ‘Jacques!’ He stopped, but he did not turn. But at this, he halted, turning his frowning gaze back on her. She would ignore him. Every now and then her general presence became radiantly dazzling in his eyes; she would appear in the street coming toward him, a surprise, so fine and smiling and welcoming was she, so expanded and illuminated and living, in contrast with his mere expectation. "And who is this Van Gal—Gal—what's his outlandish name?" "Van Galgebrok," replied the widow. Blueskin will go with you,—for fear of a mistake. You’d better not have all the money on you; you had better open a small account in the postoffice and draw it out a fiver at a time. I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman.
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