Playing with one hand he turned on his stool to glance at her. We men are like children. At the first glance, he imagined he must have stumbled upon a museum of rarities, there were so many glass-cases, so many open cabinets, ranged against the walls; but the next convinced him that if Jonathan was a virtuoso, his tastes did not run in the ordinary channels. “She contrives somehow to strike the personal note in an amazing manner. Ain't he, Madam?'" "He is, indeed," replied the widow, fervently; "more—much more than that.
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