’ He saw that Mrs Sindlesham, for all her vaunted freedom of speech, was honestly shocked by this revelation. In you—if you can love me—there is salvation. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. Why, then, did he touch it? As he climbed heavily into his chair, she was able to note the little beads of sweat under the cracked nether lip.
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