" "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. ‘I know just what he was doing. She came with such force that she feared he might be pushed out from 193 the contractions, which did not happen. Nevertheless, Sir John had the look of a man who was enjoying himself. while we can,’ Kimble managed, and dragged himself onto his knees. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. "That's it!"—eagerly.
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