Sampans with fish and fruit and vegetables swarmed about, while overhead gulls wheeled and swooped and circled. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them. 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. I suppose that’s the gist of the whole thing. Andrew's church, the bell of which was tolling, was covered with spectators.
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