“Not really. 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. Montressor’s guests. The darkness prevented the carpenter from discerning the features or figure of the stranger; and the ceaseless din precluded the possibility of holding any communication by words with him. . “And even then—” The conversation hung for a thoughtful moment. Because of the thought of love and companionship? No. . She's fine. ” “Impudent beggars,” Sydney growled.
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