Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. ” “I couldn’t do that,” said Ann Veronica, sharply. 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. ’ ‘But he gives them to me.
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