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. "I half suspect this is a highwayman," thought the Jew; "he's so ready with his cash. But before the child could be committed to her care, it was wrested from the carpenter by Rowland.
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