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Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. “You don’t know him, Anna,” she said with a little shudder, “or you would not talk like that. It's only a gentleman come to offer you his hand. "Added to which, she is neither so young as she was, nor, is her temper by any means improved—hem!" "Say no more on the subject, Sir," observed the stranger, gravely; "but let us turn to a more agreeable one—her daughter. The priceless things were gathered, the belongings packed. "You open it, Ruth. It was a purse. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms.
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