” Lucy said softly. “I don’t know much about the technique of music,” he said at last, with his eyes upon her. All the rest of his existence was subordinate to this pursuit; he lived for it, worked for it, kept himself in training for it. He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul. “Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like a cuckolded old maid.
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