"Are you my son? Are you Jack?" "I am," replied Jack. I'd like to shake you until your bones rattled; but the bones of a Roundhead wouldn't rattle to any purpose. 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. ” She glared at him balefully. Even the light was different in Athens, soft and golden, sweet as the morning dew blessed by Athena herself. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture. He stood there, large and dark, enunciating, in his clear voice from beneath his large mustache, clear flat sentences, deliberately kindly.
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