He had been for months without music of the character he loved—and he dared not play any of it! McClintock, after the music began, left the piano and sat in a corner just beyond the circle of light cast by the lamp. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. ‘Imbecile. Sheppard, sinking backwards upon the pallet.
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