’ He let her go. I said I’d make shirts. And then if some day Capes wanted her—saw fit to alter his views upon friendship. ‘And I have a very good mind to kill you. "Let me see," replied Wood; "exactly twelve years ago last November. Vite, I pray you. The opiate has done its duty. Give up your lonely hours of work here. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. Probably the latter, for the thronging ballroom was insufferably hot. ” He hesitated, and walked away from her toward the house. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. " Half an hour later she laid aside the book.
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