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The clanking of chains, the grating of locks, and the rumbling of bolts must have been music in Jonathan's ears, so much pains did he take to subject himself to such sounds. His arms slipped around her waist as they were on the doorstep and he kissed her lips sweetly. “Earning a salary!” “You’re like a Princess in Exile!” he repeated, overruling her. Brown or Jones, I dare say. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. ’ ‘When you begin to tell the truth,’ Gerald told her severely, ‘I shall be happy to believe you.
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