’ ‘I’m that sorry, miss,’ Kimble said glumly. At least for one moment, it was. ‘I do not know. Make haste!" Ruth hurried off to her own room. 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. ” “How the hell did you learn to play like that?” “Lots of practice, John. You think you will. E below.
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