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. "Enough," said Jack, recovering his composure. But "fine" is the word. The lunches were individual affairs: sandwiches, bottled olives and jam commandeered from the Victoria. The clanking of chains, the grating of locks, and the rumbling of bolts must have been music in Jonathan's ears, so much pains did he take to subject himself to such sounds. ‘That would have grieved Jarvis. And yet he knew that his skill was equal to that of any fashionable practitioner in Hong-Kong.
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