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“Is this true, Annabel? Is he dead?” She nodded. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. Go for it. You get this queer irascible musician quite impossibly and unfortunately in love with a wealthy patroness, and then out of his brain comes THIS, a tapestry of glorious music, setting out love to lovers, lovers who love in spite of all that is wise and respectable and right. ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease. And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. If I don't, you shall clap me in the Condemned Hold in his stead. He nodded silently, too full for words. Wood, delighted at the idea.
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