One comes at last to the step from dreams to reality. Lucy sat beside him. ‘Only me name,’ Kimble said apologetically. 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. CHAPTER XXX. Consternation gripped him.
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