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I—I hurt myself. Until the last few months. They talked lightly but confidentially until Sir John approached them with a slight frown upon his face. To-night we leave for Marseilles. . I’ve just seen him. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. But she must not laugh. “Sir John is not at all that sort. It was Celeste’s idea.
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