“Odd!” she said. They may love us, but they love us as the slave loves his captor, not as equals. Down on me luck, I was, and they took me in. “Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. At last he could bear it no longer. “Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. . They had refused. I've always been more or less music-mad.
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