I don’t play anything. She glanced at the soft-ticking clock with the exposed brass pendulum upon the white marble mantel, and made a rapid calculation. ” She realized it was possible to be sorry for him—acutely sorry for the situation. With this view he struck off into a narrow street on the left, and soon entered a small alehouse, over the door of which hung the sign of the "Welsh Trumpeter. Grace, confidence, the power of movement even, seemed gone from her.
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