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. Having accomplished his intent, Gerald let the lad go and had himself driven back to Stratton Street. This service rendered, without waiting for any farther order, she withdrew. “Stop me if there is anything you want to watch.
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