"She has," rejoined Sheppard. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. ” Her words were slurred with sleep. He was way out of her league and it was downright odd that he had obliged himself to talk to her, let alone walk her home. "I suspect our friend has thought better of it, and won't come," he remarked.
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