Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. An ancient smile lay on his lips. To be ill and helpless. He would have risen again, but for the significance of the action. "Mr. “Don’t they look like a pair of young lovers sleeping off a tryst?” He observed. Hers were less noble, yet stately.
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