The scent of cloying pine dust filled the air as floodlights shone eerily through the jungle gym of new wood. Ah!" he exclaimed, as his eye fell upon a small knob in the wall, "there's the spring!" He touched it, and the door flew open. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. The fellow is little better than a lunatic.
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