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 you cannot expect that we will any of us remain altogether quiet,’ objected Melusine. “Don’t we all rather humbug about the coarseness? All we women, I mean,” said she. And yet, she would be easy prey in her present state of mind to any plausible, attractive scoundrel. Then his tiny bow mouth opened into an adoring smile. ‘Nothing would do for her but to come here,’ grumbled Hilary, wiping his heated brow with a pocket handkerchief dragged from his immaculate white uniform breeches.
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