E. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. See paragraph 1. He looked like an animated skeleton that someone had hung a smelly 105 brown beard upon. "Give me your thorough-paced villain. "Sir Cecil is no more.
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