"Is this a season to speak on such a subject?" "Perhaps not," rejoined the woollen-draper; "but the uncontrollable violence of my passion must plead my excuse. She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. The little room was fragrant with flowers, Anna herself bright, and with all the evidences of well being. At this moment she was staring ahead; and again came the opportunity to study her. Then she stood up and looked around the room. From a bi-secting street came shouting and music. She inhaled a deep breath of air—London air.
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