And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. 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 that possibility had been anticipated. "Never give in. "I am happy—quite happy now. The water was cold but she waded deeper. “I’ll go,” she vowed to the night, “or I’ll die!” She made plans and estimated means and resources.
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