It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed. Whatever may happen to-morrow I shall be none the better for anticipating its miseries to-day. But, when the sound of the carriage-wheels died away, and he felt that she was actually gone, his resolution failed him, and he rang the bell violently. 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. There was some one there.
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