"I have nothing. 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. But if you mean to take me to this Gérard, I shall know what to say to him. The fatal shower, from which he and his little charge escaped uninjured, had stricken his assailant and precipitated him into the boiling gulf. Their momentary absence seemed to have worked wonders; for now the most perfect understanding appeared to subsist between them.
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