And now she had sent Jack away. “It’s the stir of spring,” he said. “My God!” he said at last, with tremendous feeling, and then again, “My God!” Now that this thing was said her mind was clear and calm. You know that, and I know that, though we might be put to it to find a reason why. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. The wine bubbled and seethed; and the exquisite bouquet of oranges permeated the room.
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