” “It would suit me. She went to a dramatic agent, and he turned out to be the one who had heard me sing in Paris. Better get a dress. Love, obliterated, annihilated; out of his heart and out of his Bible. Curiosity to see what a sing-song girl was like took possession of Ruth's thoughts. 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. ‘Danged if I ever hear the like! A Frenchie is what you are, and there ain’t no granddaughter Charvill no more.
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