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Whenever ecstasy— any kind of ecstasy—filled her heart to bursting, these physical expressions eased the pressure. “Act three. 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 care not why you did it," said Jack, sternly. "All life is a muddle, and we are all muddlers, more or less.
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