’ The crack in the iron front widened a little, and the general was obliged to clamp his jaws tight against the rise of a pain too well remembered. “I believe that you are right,” he said softly. They both listened intently. He played for an hour—Grieg, Chopin, Rubenstein, Liszt, crashing music. “A confusion of motives—that’s what I am!. Heaven alone knows why. He’d borne mention of the woman’s name.
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