‘You were right, miss. Sheppard," rejoined Winifred kindly. Lucy entered the room. “I had those beautiful roses from you on my first night, and a tiny little note but no address. 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. Sewn on that button yet?" "I've been afraid to take the coat from under the pillow.
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