‘You are a born rebel, ma’am, and I can see now where she gets it from. She was the first to recover herself. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. 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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