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. It lay undisturbed in the remotest corner of the recess. I wrote three letters yesterday and tore them up. Her fingers were bursting through her gloves, as if to get at once into touch with Ann Veronica. “I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind.
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