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. She seemed to have no idea whatever of the emotional states that were becoming to her age and position. Their colloquy was ended abruptly by the apparition of Miss Klegg at the further door. "This suspense is worse than torture. They were sounding more and more like Civic every day.
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