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. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. You will not have to wait long for the information. " "So I perceive," said Ruth, withdrawing her hands. "No friend like the mother, for the babby knows no other.
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