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. " As Jack made no reply, the woman proceeded. Her two new friends did their best to entertain her. “Besides, it is not so. Why not? Imagine I’ve had a fit of hysteria—and that I’ve come round. You had better let me go again. ’ ‘Married?’ ‘I did mention Madame Valade, did I not?’ At that, a growl of startling ferocity escaped her lips. She would be in the library, her favorite place, or on the bench by the colored glass window with her embroidery. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. Spurlock stared at Ruth across the rim of his bowl. All men are bloody fucking hypocrites. ” “Why?” asked Hetty.
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