” Anna stood up. The key's in the lock, on the inner side. A brief description will suffice for them. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. The candles—for McClintock never used oil in his dining room—were burning low in the sconces. " "So it seems," observed the woollen-draper, "and for every one else, too. We two. Love and lavender, he thought, perhaps wistfully.
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