“He’s a Fellow of the Royal Society, and he can’t be much over thirty,” said Miss Klegg. 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. He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips. Gül, lavanta ve diğer çiçeklerin muhteşem kokularını yakaladı. “No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing. But it was generally unused, and so was a suitable spot for these secret meetings, when Melusine plotted and delivered her instructions to Jack Kimble. She had expected a love story; and love was totally absent. I want to get away—to go to London. As a dog eats grass.
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