What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. Cathy's eyebrows perked up. He has no imagination, no real generosity. “You know—,” said Mr. F. A kind but hard looking female officer named Rose took her into a room and sat her down at a small wooden table. When you send for me I shall come back. " The Chinaman paused. She remembered him as a dull figure, a big man with a belly that was already showing fat under his fine scarlet clothes.
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