She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat. She possessed what he affected to despise, but secretly worshipped—the innate charm of breeding. He had been for months without music of the character he loved—and he dared not play any of it! McClintock, after the music began, left the piano and sat in a corner just beyond the circle of light cast by the lamp. “I shall be very glad to have you for a friend,” he said, “loving friend. Good night.
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