Mistresses neither deserve consideration nor commiseration. 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. ‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor. They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. " "I might have been able to do that if you hadn't told me … she cared. ” “It certainly was,” she admitted. ‘Either you tell me why you want the wretched animal, or it stays here. "Under the table. An ill-lined purse is a poor recompense for the risk I have run.
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