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. Ann Veronica thought the whole affair rather jolly. Then I came to London and tried almost everything—all failures. His expression altered. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. I have said that I am but a nun now.
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