"It is", seplied Winifred; "have you brought any tidings of Thames Darrell!" "Troth have I!" replied Terence: "but, bless your angilic face, how did you contrive to guess that?" "Is he well?—is he safe?—is he coming back," cried the little girl, disregarding the question. " "Piano-player? Do you mean someone who plays for you?" "No, no; one of those mechanical things you play with your feet. Playing became a way of escape. .
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