” “Don’t be foolish,” he said sharply. . He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, thinking intently. . What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. ” “I think I am. . At last, after a long rumbling journey in a stuffy windowless van, she reached Canongate Prison—for Holloway had its quota already. "You must not remain here," he said.
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