I will no longer be a burthen to those upon whom I have no claim, but compassion. Above the work-table was a drop-light—kerosene. Her words, as she said them, seemed to her to mean nothing, and there was so much that struggled for expression. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy. “You need a reason. She had always had a wonderful ear for phrasing, even back in the days of the viol. A brief feeling of empathy with Pottiswick passed through him.
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