Kneebone and Mr. I won’t tolerate any foreign tongue in this house, least of all that confounded French. 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. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. He seemed to be thinking hard. “I don’t mean simply intensity of sensation. “As a matter of fact, I deserve to. It amounted to two-and-twenty pounds. He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening.
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