“I know nothing whatever of his friends or his home. “Tell her,” said Mr. ” “Well”—her breath failed her for a moment. She found no ready reply to that, and he went on: “This music is the food of love. “And to think that it’s not a full year ago since I was a black-hearted rebel school-girl, distressed, puzzled, perplexed, not understanding that this great force of love was bursting its way through me! All those nameless discontents—they were no more than love’s birth-pangs.
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