” He was not in the least surprised. It lay undisturbed in the remotest corner of the recess. “Lucy, where is your callous? All violinists have calluses on their necks and hands from playing. Stanley had never thought out. "I beg your pardon," he cried; "but really—ha! ha!—you must excuse me!—that is so uncommonly diverting—ha! ha! Do let me hear it again?—ha! ha! ha!" "Upon my word," rejoined Wood, "you seem vastly entertained by my misfortunes. He thought of her and himself, and no longer in that vein of incidental adventure in which he had begun. She knew very well that a new thing was stirring in her. Well, I'll take myself off. Wood.
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