She watched them sleep for what seemed hours from the high window until her body grew colder than the stone sill she perched upon. ” Annabel gave a little gasp. 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. Stanley pointed to the letter with a pipe he had drawn from his jacket pocket.
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