A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage. I am going to make a fresh start. You want music. Still, here we are in this dingy, foggy city. She took the tray with both hands, gulped, and gave way to tears. 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.
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