Then I came to London and tried almost everything—all failures. 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. Yes, yes, you do not like the French, and so this English lady here, she is altogether your flesh. The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. Mr Jarvis’s sister, that was. “Please come by. You can tell me the rest another time.
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