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. Now Owen Wood had one fair child, Unlike her mother, meek and mild; Her love the draper strove to gain, But she repaid him with disdain. She opened this and scrambled out—a thing she had not done for five long years of adolescence— upon the leaded space above the built-out bath-room on the first floor. ‘What?’ Roding snapped, coming quickly to tower above the window seat. "Good-b'ye!" And with a cordial shake of the hand he took his departure. " "Dear me!" sympathised Mrs. ’ She ended on a note of sheer frustration, clenched fists beating the air.
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