" "You say that the miniature was abstracted from Lady Trafford's jewel-box," said Jonathan, in a loud voice. I know exactly what I am doing. 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. The individual twist was always there, even in the cleverest forgeries.
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