“It can’t make any difference to you, and there are not half a dozen people in Paris who could tell us apart. “It is just six o’clock now. ” He moved himself from the recliner to the couch and patted a cushion. 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. Her fingers rested upon his. ) You are all the slender goddesses. My death, probably. And now, Sir, have I kept faith with you?" "You have," replied Darrell.
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