. “It is not that. She slept in a bedroom clad in linens and skins, walked down hallways bedecked in the most gay and colorful frescos. 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 wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck.
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