"You had better let me convey her to Dollis Hill," he said. The lantern was on the ground inside, ready. However, come along. 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 there's a person in the hall—a very odd sort of man—waiting to see him, who won't be sent away. \"Would you like some orange juice?\" Larry had already been working outside for an hour, Mike at his side, dragging grass clippings to the compost pile. You will make him get his daughter, if you please.
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