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. Wood, in a whisper, as he filled a rummer to the brim, not to forget the health of the Chevalier de Saint George—a proposition to which the lady immediately responded by drinking the toast aloud. He had died before they married, and when her brother became a widower she had come to his assistance and taken over much of the care of his youngest daughter. ” 227 “Your family?” “She was my first wife, and because she turned me, she was like a mother to me.
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