‘Go on up to the boy, my dear. Jack Sheppard's Quarrel with Jonathan Wild 254 IV. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. For all that she was of exceptional intellectual enterprise, she had never yet considered these things with unaverted eyes. Everything was very neat; it had evidently been straightened up and kept for her. She wished her father and aunt would not enjoy their dinner with such quiet determination. I am a murderer.
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