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. "You won't refuse it, Mr. Mr. ‘What has that to say to anything?’ ‘Nothing at all,’ smiled Lucy nervously. The rooks were cawing amid the boughs, and all nature appeared awaking to happiness.
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