The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. " "Hurt her? It would tear her to pieces; God knows she has had enough. ” He dabbed with his paper-weight again, and spoke in an entirely indifferent tone. Katy’s face was vapid and undistinguishable from a crowd, but pretty in an abstract sense, like the face of a baby doll. ‘How famous. He raised her to a sitting position. She told you —the truth. She entered the last room, his bedroom. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time.
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