“I wrote it for you. "I didn't imagine for a moment that you'd accept it, but I thought it right to make you the offer. " "I will yield it to no one but its mother," answered Wood. ’ A panel slid open and she stepped into the relative light of the little dressingroom, Kimble close behind her. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. "And someday let him care for me!" She sprang up, alarmed.
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