"Ah! Owen Wood, is it you?" cried David in astonishment. ’ ‘Mercy me,’ gasped the nun. Perhaps my wife has already prepared you for what I wish to say. "Nobody composes any more, nobody paints, nobody writes—I mean, on a par with what we've just heard. She spoke with a certain odd deliberation carefully chosen words which fell like drops of ice upon the man who sat listening. " "Ah, I see.
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