"I wish to overtake Lady Trafford. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. 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 made his voice very low and full, and looked closely into her face.
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