“I was glad you did not send it back again,” he said. ‘You are mad,’ Gosse uttered, and only just had time to get himself up from the floor. But the father, to go his way forever alone! The iron in the man!—the iron in this child of his! Wanting a little love, a caress now and then. It's of no use. This is something above all rules. 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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