“How could it not have hurt?” His analytical side started putting in overtime. 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. The close-fitting round gown, if a little oldfashioned with its very narrow waist and wide skirts, was becoming on a full figure, and the low décolletage, unencumbered by any form of covering, exposed a good deal of bosom. So it would always be between herself and Manning. "Where did I hear that before?" "Perhaps that first day, in the water-clock tower. Then blackness.
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