She found no ready reply to that, and he went on: “This music is the food of love. Possessed of you, I shall have a treasure such as kings could not boast. Figg," said Jack. “And all the rest of it perhaps is a song. "One-and-twenty, ah!" repeated Gay. He tried to make love to me. Relief flooded her. "I shall want nothing more. In all his life he had never realized a dream; but the thought had never before hurt him. You did not complain then that I personated you—no, nor when Sir John came to me in Paris, and for your sake I lied. "And I," muttered Jack. You’ll have to find someone else.
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