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. ‘But how did she meet such a person in a convent?’ ‘He was wounded and came there for sanctuary,’ Gerald explained, adding almost through his teeth. The thousand voices which a few moments before had been so clamorous were now hushed. ‘More, I think,’ put in Madame, soulfully regarding the major, ‘because I have English, a little. Are these folks your current foster parents?” “Yes. I mentioned sixty, I believe, when I was in Paris, but there are expenses, and just now business is bad.
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