One of your aunts died, I believe, and the other removed to London. ” She replied. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. 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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