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. There was a pause, and then the front door slammed. “How crude you are, Anna!” she exclaimed with a little sigh. She didn’t like the shops, she didn’t like the other women’s faces; she thought the smirking men in frock-coats who dominated these establishments the most intolerable persons she had ever had to face. ” “Who cooked it all?” He asked. ‘But of course. " "What is it?" asked the poor woman. ‘You have no need to be afraid of us. You have all the instinctive dexterity of parasites.
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