The love-songs of all the ages were singing in her blood, the scent of night stock from the garden filled the air, and the moths that beat upon the closed frames of the window next the lamp set her mind dreaming of kisses in the dusk. ” “Well”—her breath failed her for a moment. You’ll be telling me Gerald did not catch you snooping at the Bicknacres, I suppose. We men are like children. Ennison?” “He spoke to me, thinking that I was you,” Anna answered. ‘André? Que dit-il?’ ‘My wife does not understand,’ said the fellow, frowning deeply. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. ’ ‘Prudence,’ repeated Gerald unguardedly.
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