‘All right, Trodger. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. 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. No doubt that was due to his helplessness. I love some one else. He found himself growing hoarse yelling over the music, but it also situated him to lean towards her to put his hand on her ear to aid her hearing. They had been so considerate of the earth they had touched that they barely left a footprint. We stepped from the Embassy into the motor—and oh! I thought that he was dead. uh. ‘The credentials, milor’,’ he ventured. Jolly hard life for a girl, getting a living. She wondered what the problem was, why the buildup? She wanted to go to his apartment that evening but stayed herself. He seldom spoke, and drank with a persistence that was sinister.
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