Upon this grateful animal she lavished that affection which was subtly repelled by its lawful object. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. ‘The gatehouse? But why must you move him at all?’ ‘Listen, missie.
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