She blushed prettily, and in a moment regained command of her tongue. “You ask me to be engaged to you, Mr. . I cannot think he will welcome a French émigré for his granddaughter. 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.
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