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. “And you brought her a man, I presume. All the initial confidence in herself was gone; her courage was merely a shell to hide the lack. “I shall be waiting for you there, and in the meantime, if you will help yourself—pray don’t look like that. That’s one thing clear. ‘What do you do here?’ demanded the young lady, moving to meet him. Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. “I think she would,” she decided.
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