Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. 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. "Yes," replied Jack. " "Dear mother, don't say so," returned Winifred. " Ah Cum nodded.
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