"After all, he is my father, Hoddy; and I cursed him. When I told them I was going to your house today, my dad told me to either ask for lessons or bring my violin to give to you permanently since I was not ever going to use it. " Spurlock pointed in the sloping fields outside the walls. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. CHAPTER XVII. The thought caused him an odd kind of pang—of pity, naturally.
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