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. Could she go through with it? She must. ’ ‘To you,’ she said angrily. Her grave fine face, her warm clear complexion, had already aroused his curiosity as he had gone to and fro in Morningside Park, and here suddenly he was near to her and talking freely and intimately. It’s true. " "Or the flat stones in the meadows, teeming with life underneath. " It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. His subconscious sensed the unnaturalness of it and recoiled. Lucy was silent.
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