All other things were without weight or consequence before the fact that this poor young man would have to depend upon her for his life. That is my way, my dear. 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. ‘Ah, yes? To what do I pretend?’ ‘That,’ Gerald said regretfully, ‘I have not yet been able to fathom.
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