Wood, in a whisper, as he filled a rummer to the brim, not to forget the health of the Chevalier de Saint George—a proposition to which the lady immediately responded by drinking the toast aloud. To have the present lengthen into years! But in a few hours she would be upon her way, far lonelier than she had ever been. " "I see. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. .
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