She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. 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. “I wonder why people in love are so defiant, so careless of other considerations?” “The very hares grow brave. "His lordship desires me to say—ough! ough!" Fresh groans and hisses. Just now the waterchestnuts…. I am sure it will be good, John, and I could eat anything.
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