\"My parents. You know nothing of life, nothing of its dangers, nothing of its possibilities. 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. Not all of us, but some of us. It was a brief solitude, however. You’ll need that. She appeared to be considering. "If you've a fancy for the girl, we might do it. She helped herself to the remainder of the slightly congealed bacon, and reverted to the problem of getting her luggage out of the house. Neither of them believed me.
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