I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. You have been going out every morning, and coming home late—tired out—too tired to come down to dinner. 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. \"Could you take off your shoes?\" Michelle asked. ” “This,” Anna declared, as she sipped her wine and looked around her, “reminds me more of Paris than any place I have yet seen.
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