"Rachel," said Mr. You did not learn that in a convent. She had never been there before at that hour, in that light, and it seemed to her as if she came to it all for the first time. 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. I don’t want to stop your singing.
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