"Nothing!" echoed the other, scornfully. Her voice was weak and flat. 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. Perhaps you'll give me in return some token, by which I may remind you of this occurrence, in case we meet again. Occasionally the flames would bend, twist and writhe crazily as the punka-boy bestirred himself. Sir John and Annabel seated themselves at one of them, and the proprietor himself, a small dark-visaged man, radiant with smiles, came hurrying up, followed by a waiter.
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