’ ‘Get going, then,’ Trodger told his men. The first stroke appeared to arouse all the vindictive passions of Jonathan. 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. ’ ‘What?’ squeaked Kimble. The Plague raced through the city and the Palazzo, consuming it like fire. Twice she smiled, but not unkindly. They went first to a hotel, and then out again on to the boulevards.
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