The windows of these rooms were obscured with draperies, their floors a carpet patchwork; the china ornaments on their mantels were of a class apart. 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 I never betray an old customer. They had not so far been of much personal interest to Gerald, but tonight was different. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow.
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