"This is strange," said Jack, under his breath. “I don’t know much about the technique of music,” he said at last, with his eyes upon her. "Amazement!" cried Wild. " "Poor soul!—poor soul!" groaned Wood, brushing the tears from his vision. ‘I have no idea. ” Chapter XXXII SIX MONTHS AFTER Up the moss-grown path, where the rose bushes run wild, almost met, came Anna in a spotless white gown, with the flush of her early morning walk in her cheeks, and something of the brightness of it in her eyes.
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