It was a gray day in the spring of 1910. It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed. At length, however, she threw herself off; and Jack carefully guiding the rope she landed in safety. \" He said, as he threw his trash into the can on the way out. ” She was frightened—his anger always did frighten her—and in her resolve to conceal her fright she carried a queen-like dignity to what she felt even at the time was a preposterous pitch. The woman shrugged her shoulders. But what a monster was this Emile. I can see the whole thing was just a set-up for sequels, though. 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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