" "Mr. It had felt wonderful to pick up the fiddle again. " "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. While he was thus occupied, he felt a rough grasp upon his arm, and presently afterwards Ben's lips approached close to his ear. It ought never to have begun. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time.
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