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. "He is dying?" whispered Ruth. “I don’t see,” gasped Ann Veronica, “why parents and children. ” “Yes, but men;” said Ann Veronica, plunging; “don’t you want the love of men?” For some seconds they remained silent, both shocked by this question. They were hailed as celebrities, the three of them. I will go to-night. “You poor little girl!” he cried.
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