I wouldn't accept my life from him. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. ’ ‘Will you indeed? Truly?’ His smile held so much tenderness, she was tempted to surrender at once. “Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. As she raised it, its lower portion fell apart into two baggy crimson masses. It was for ever. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust.
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