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 laughed a little contemptuously. An acute sense of living was in her veins, even the taste of her wine seemed magical. ‘They cannot help it. "Close the door!" commanded Trenchard, impatiently. " "Man, she's your wife!" "And I am a thief. That’s Italians for you. The few pence left in her purse would only provide a very scanty lunch.
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