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. That held his thought as the magnet holds the needle, inescapably. "Good-bye!" For a moment Ruth was tempted to fling herself against the withered bosom; but long since she had learned repression. .
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