“I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders. ‘And we shall see which of us is more quick. 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. I was curious about that. ’ ‘Not French?’ echoed Hilary. I wouldn't have him see me in this state for the world. Fresh ground, no chicory, and all the rest of it.
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