" "Rely on me," rejoined Kneebone. 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 immediate halt took place. Grasping one of chairs about the little table, he drew it forward and sat astride it, in a fashion as insolent as it was unexpected. Sometimes these dreams are simple and tender; sometimes they are magnificent. I never saw a man who wasn't. My sister was scarcely likely to make a mistake.
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