Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. The tail-ender of this little caravan, he had been rather out of it. "'Odd's-my-life! what's this?" exclaimed the carpenter, looking at the superscription of one of them. '" "What is that?" she asked.
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