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. ‘He prayeth best who loveth best—all things both great and small. Let me take the satchel, sir. His idea was to get behind this sustained listlessness. I've seen many a clever cracksman, but never one like him. But the wench who tricked me shall bitterly repent it. “So it’s like you’re a dead end?” He asked innocently.
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