He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. The landing was defended by Quilt Arnold and the Jew. Her mouth lolled open and drool seeped down one corner. She was going to him soon and certainly, going to his strong, embracing arms. She was, she guessed, close to the library. An hour was then passed in conversation as to the possibility of rendering any assistance to Jack; in deploring his unhappy destiny; and in the consideration of the course to be pursued in reference to Jonathan Wild.
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