The sky periodically pummeled her with hail pellets as she would pass through the deserted intersections. Her own pack was so light that she left it in the locker. 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. "Recollect you are in my power.
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