’ ‘Wait!’ Leaning forward, Hilary tapped on the panel. "And now, mark me. 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. That glove is still preserved. That is the dreadful truth. The first set of occupations seemed to her to be altogether too domestic and restricted; for the latter she was dreadfully handicapped by her want of experience.
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