’ She counted off on her fingers. “I’m rather a persistent person. And Miss Miniver began to sway her. 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. ‘For my part, I am in no hurry to end this exciting little adventure. " "There are bad stories, then, just as there are bad people?" "Yes. Could she understand what she was talking about? Luckily it was a second-class carriage and the ordinary fellowtravellers were not there. “Is that so? Who says?” He demanded, his eyebrows arching as he looked at her with puerile glee.
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