’ Gerald shrugged. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet. And no ill-chances. “Why waste yourself, John?” 241 < 31 > THE CONCERT Martin Chen showed up early for the pre-concert warm-up at 5:00. Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears. ‘Lawks-a-mussy! It’s Miss Mary. “You see,” he said, “it is doubtful if we can ever marry.
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