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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. It seems to me just talk; it seems to me like the fancy of a dream. "Good-bye!" For a moment Ruth was tempted to fling herself against the withered bosom; but long since she had learned repression. His arm fell to his side. What Miss Miniver would have called the Higher Truth supervenes. She propped a pillow against his padded headboard and sat herself into a stiff upright position, legs expertly crossed. But, after some restoratives had been administered by Mrs. Marvel," remarked Shotbolt.
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