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He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. She leaned over and kissed his cheek innocently. “It is, if anything, a little above the average,” Brendon admitted. Not conceiving that his sister—feeble as she was, and yielding as she had ever shown herself to his wishes, whether expressed or implied—would depart without consulting him, he was equally surprised and enraged to hear the servants busied in transporting her to the carriage. As soon as dinner was over she went into the kitchen and devoted herself to compiling a tray—not a tray merely of halfcooled dinner things, but a specially prepared “nice” tray, suitable for tempting any one. We shall have—hardly any money. You have never known what it is to want food, raiment, shelter. It now came to him with an added thrill how well she had told her story; simply and directly, no skipping, no wandering hither and yon: from the first hour she could remember, to the night she had fled in the proa, a clear sustained narrative.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 30-09-2024 18:50:34