He was sitting back from the table now, with one arm over the back of his green chair and the other resting on the little table. ” She let him make love to her that night. 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. But he reckoned without his host. They bounced without merriment over bumpy Roman roads, and by the time they arrived she was extremely nauseous.
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