Opening the trap-door, he then descended to the vaults —searched each cell, and every nook and corner separately. 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. "Please hurry the ammonia;" and Ruth turned away abruptly.
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