He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. She knew very well that a new thing was stirring in her. . “You little wretch!” she exclaimed weakly. mm. F. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her.
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