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Then he turned round and gazed thoughtfully at the particular spot in the fog where Courtlaw had disappeared. The doctor sensed that his bolt had gone wrong, but he could not tell how or why. “When one is happy—I don’t like to think of them. ‘Come, come, ma’am,’ he said smiling. Twenty guineas, mind. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. "No prize shall indushe me to enter dat horrid plashe again.
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