Her eyes were lit with mirth, the corners of her mouth quivered. “Lucy, where is your callous? All violinists have calluses on their necks and hands from playing. Kneebone assured her that he did say so; and, as a further proof of his sincerity, squeezed her hand very warmly under the table. As if he read her thought, he spoke it aloud. Earles glanced at it, and his eyes flashed with anger. They are horrible. I had a perfect shoal of callers. He was nearly wincing. “Dear friend,” she said, “this is a matter which you must leave to me to do as I think best. Come down with me to the Lodge directly. .
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