QUOTE : I do know,” she continued, “finches sing to us from March to October.” Leaning forward, her eyes picked up the lantern’s flame. “You should see them when they go a-wooing.” “A-wooing?” “Yes. The male springs into the air singing to his ladylove while going higher and higher.” Clasping her hands, she pressed them against her chest. “That’s when his song reaches its highest ecstasy. Why, I’ve seen him go fifteen—no, twenty feet above his mate before dropping exhausted at her side.” Raising a brow, he lowered his voice. “And did he get what he was going after?” She gave a soft smile. “He certainly did, Mr. Palmer. He most certainly did.