Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. 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. " "And that's true," rejoined Mrs. Mrs Sindlesham raised her brows.
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