It was she—— Anna’s nerves were not easily shaken, but she found herself suddenly clutching at the table for support. ” That phrase about dragging the truth through swamps of nonsense she remembered from Capes. She told me the tale the other night, and I've only elaborated it. 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. And the grotesquest fact was that she did not so much loathe, as experience with a quite critical condemnation this strange sensation of being kissed. ‘What is this proof?’ ‘I will not tell you.
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