To-morrow I am going to Paris. He had been for months without music of the character he loved—and he dared not play any of it! McClintock, after the music began, left the piano and sat in a corner just beyond the circle of light cast by the lamp. She had unaccountable gleams of sympathy with and liking for him. He stopped on the curb-stone, not facing her but as if he was on his way to cross the road, and spoke to her suddenly over his shoulder. "You poor child!" Prudence took Ruth's hands in her own.
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