And yet to Spurlock it was only the title of a story he would some day write. None presented themselves to save him from that return. I've some other things inside, Sir, which you might wish to buy,—some pistols. 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.
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