" "Zounds!" exclaimed Quilt, "did you kill him?" "Not quite," replied Terence, laughing; "but I brought him to his senses. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. His revelry, however, was put an end at the expiration of the time mentioned by Jonathan, by the entrance of a posse of constables with Quilt Arnold and Abraham Mendez at their head. 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. In each pause she could sense his growing trepidation. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered. Wasn't the river beautiful under the moonlight?" "We did not leave our cabins.
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