"Release your prisoner," continued Wood, "or the window is opened. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. They got to go home and eat Campbell’s Chicken Soup. 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.
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