Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. " "And why not, old saltwater?" inquired Ben, turning a quid in his mouth. There was a photo of her that looked exactly like you. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. They got to go home and eat Campbell’s Chicken Soup.
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