Poor soul! she nearly died when she heard he had robbed his master; and it might have been well if she had done so, for she never afterwards recovered her reason. The piece, in three movements, was short enough anyway. He had saluted her with elaborate civility, his eyes distended with indecipherable meanings. She flew up from her stool and faced the door. He had dungarees on and a blue work shirt. ” “Then perhaps,” she answered, with a new coldness in her tone, “perhaps I really do not care.
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