He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. But this chap is good wine yet. . He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. “Well?” she said. He leaned forward, and looked into the eyes of the woman he loved, and it seemed to him that she sang back to him with a sudden note of something like passion breaking here and there through the gay mocking words which flowed with such effortless and seductive music from her lips. She could feel her body rebel against her actions, convulsing, so she forced herself to think of her mother in Heaven, her mother's beautiful face, the sun dancing across the rivers of her home.
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