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. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. She looked stealthily at Anna. “Always planning for death. And, lastly, there's Mr.
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