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 turned a resolute face southward. The chromatic fiction with which he relieved his mind glanced but slightly at this aspect of life, and never with any quality of guidance. I have a big breakfast.
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