"Don't swear, Jack, or I shall distrust you. \"I don't think so. “Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea. " "There was Father," suggested Angelina gently. “Who’s your violin teacher?” He asked. “Is it your maid?” he asked. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. ” She smiled.
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