She was trembling a little. They became aware of the waitress standing over them with book and pencil ready for their bill. They smelled good, but they no longer smelled like food. Mike answered the door while still toweling his hands dry. And though I say it that shouldn't say it, no man can tie a better knot. “She”, you say. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. She went to the basement and shed her sodden coat and scarf, tossing them into her favorite modern appliance, the electric dryer. ‘Indeed?’ Gerald said politely. 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.
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