She felt that Ann Veronica had duped her in that dream, and now that she had come up to London she might as well speak her mind. 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. Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. She wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours.
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