She could have kissed Cathy. 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. Hurrying down the Haymarket, he was arrested by a crowd who were collected round a street-singer. I only wish he was not a Papist and a Jacobite.
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