I put my foot down like—like adamant. A beachcomber in embryo, and she had lent a hand through habit as much as through pity. I tell you what, Mr. 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. "If Jack would come to my house, I'd contrive to hide him," remarked a buxom dame.
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