He continued alternately to be tossed in the air, or rolled in the kennel until he was borne out of sight. ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Gerald. 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. “Your father is dead too, I believe,” he continued, “and your mother. He had scarcely completed his toilet, when he was startled by a noise at the door, and heard his own name pronounced in no friendly accents.
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