"It's the ordinary's signature, undoubtedly," replied Jack. 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. ” She rang the bell, and he waited by her side until she was admitted to the tall, gloomy lodging-house.
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