She was obliged, as she explained continually to every one who cared to listen, to be so very particular. It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. ” Brendon went very pale. I'll try to think better of him in future.
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