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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. His arm closed in around her middle and she was caught. "Your father—poor imbecile!—believes we ran away together. "You can generally understand that language. After the first violent outbreak of grief had in some degree subsided, Thames addressed him.
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