148 “Sure. "You'll never return. Then I assumed a rather portentous manner to prepare him. “I suppose you’re like the rest of them. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. 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. " "For shame, Mr. ’ ‘I don’t know that there is so much to tell. And this clear-visioned child had comprehended that only half the rogues were really ill. Wood thought them both remarkably plain, but Mr.
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