Her dainty shoes were soiled with dust and there was a great tear in her skirt. 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. She thought of Sebastian who often returned from the charnel house that the outside world had become. Even he was not oblivious to it, and after about two minutes of awkward French kissing, he pulled away. Master, your humble servant.
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