She stuffed her violin in its case and rushed into the hallway towards John, who stood outside of 118 with his arms crossed. There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. "I am here, you see," said the smith. "Perhaps he means well. ’ ‘Lord,’ Gerald murmured, awed more by the outspokenness of his hostess than by what she had said.
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