"Not exactly," answered Jonathan, drily. ” She said, studying his face, which seemed to lose its childishness a little more with each day. "I thought we were going to have some music," she said. A thin mist lay on the river, giving the few craft moving about in it a ghostly look. The effort of self-repression cost him a sob. She felt a hysterical desire to strike him, to burst out crying, to blurt out the whole miserable truth. She was caught by an uncle, whose opinion she valued, making faces at Roddy because he had exulted at this.
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