’ ‘And do not say you made a mull. He confided to me that he felt trapped in his marriage, that he was being ruined by fate. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. The thought made her exquisitely happy. F. Ruth is not another man's wife; she is all your own, for better or for worse. I was the last on board. Her father’s peculiar stiffness of soul presented itself now as something altogether left out of the calculations upon which her plans were based, and, in particular, she had not anticipated the difficulty she would find in borrowing the forty pounds she needed for Ramage. He seated himself before it. 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. He stood on the top step for a moment, lost in deep thought.
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