She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious. But from the rest—you saved me. Would that a certain major might cast upon her such a look. It was necessary to think, and think quickly. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. “Don’t be an ass, Ferringhall,” he said tersely. Slowly she released the hammer on the pistol, uncocking it, and Gerald became conscious that he had been holding his breath.
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