She wanted to know. Down under the incalculable selfishness of the penitent child there was the man's uneasy recollection of Judas. 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. A strong arm pulled her closer, and the lips that mouthed her own in tender touches sent her senses reeling. In all her life no living thing had had to depend upon her, not even a dog or a cat. Jack Sheppard's Quarrel with Jonathan Wild 254 IV.
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