" "You hear, my son," said the widow eagerly. " "Piano-player? Do you mean someone who plays for you?" "No, no; one of those mechanical things you play with your feet. “I’m not that beautiful. Go away,’ came fretfully from Prudence Sindlesham, and Melusine heaved a sigh as she looked towards the butler, who was making his stately way to the door. Her interest grew as she read, a certain distaste disappeared.
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