“All’s well that ends well,” he said; “and the less one says about things the better. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. Sepulchre's. 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. ’ ‘Exactement. "I say," retorted Edgeworth Bess, with a very unfeminine imprecation, "I shan't stand any more of that nonsense. A little Cockney recovered it, and made ridiculous attempts to get to her and replace it.
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