" "Not I," replied Jack; "I'm too comfortable where I am. Lord, I am sixty. He had been ill; no matter about that: he recollected every thought that had led up to it and every act that had consummated the deed. 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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