“No doubt about that, I fancy,” Meddoes answered lightly. "You are complimentary, Sir Rowland," returned the other, with a grim smile. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. “I should like to understand you,” he said. ” “I promise. He was tall and straight, and his expression was good.
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