“I don’t know much about the technique of music,” he said at last, with his eyes upon her. “You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. A moment more and he would have been crushed beneath the ponderous board, when a slight but strong arm arrested its descent. “I would like to go home,” she cried, “to please her. The young lady—if she had come in here at all—had vanished.
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