Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. The day had become suddenly overcast. Also she made little pussy-like sounds of a reassuring nature. She hated being angry, the uselessness of it all, the frustration. Hurrying in the direction of the supposed arrest, they encouraged each other with shouts, and threatened the offending parties with their vengeance.
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