“I’m sorry I told you that, Michelle. See, it is on my cards—M. 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 how to avail himself of it was the question, for in his present garb he was sure to be recognised. He knocked his pipe on the teak rail. “He is a sad blunderer. Now when I tell you exactly the truth, you will also not believe me.
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