" The girl's blood ran warmly for a minute. . Fly! fly!" "Do not think of me, mother, but of yourself," cried Jack, in an agony of tears. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. “I went to Anna’s rooms because I felt that I must see her. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. The benches running round the room, though fastened to the walls by iron clamps, had been forcibly wrenched off; while the table, which was similarly secured to the boards, was upset, and its contents—bottles, jugs, glasses, and bowls were broken and scattered about in all directions.
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