” Thank Heaven! Mr. 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. " "Oh God!" exclaimed Jack, paralysed by her cries. All the best novels have been written by women, and yet see how men sneer at the lady novelist still! There’s only one way to get on for a woman, and that is to please men. ‘Yes, for there were too many females for the vicomte to make me a dowry. .
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