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If I do not look after her, she has no one. She was no longer certain that she desired an Englishman, if she must judge of one in particular. 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. She answered him almost coldly. ‘Certainly I am not a nun. ” “I am going to ask more than a favour,” she said slowly.
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