“Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image. “I believe that he would bore me. He had hurt her. . ‘But that will do for a start. 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. It may be treacherous, it may lay up a store of future woe; but it insures present happiness, and that is sufficient. She went down, feeling rather than seeing the way. Section 1. He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. " "You're a philosopher, too.
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